Harry Potter and the Sennen Items
by Nachzes Black-Rider
Summary: HPXYGO cross. Yuugi, Malik, Ryou, Seto, and Mokuba go to Hogwarts, the magic of the Sennen Items and that of wizards clash, and someone other than Harry is having prophetic dreams of Voldemort. Oh, and what’s this? Sirius isn’t dead.... !SEQUEL PLANNED!
1. Prologue

**Nachzes:** ::snickers:: Beware my wrath, readers! Fear the all-mighty and -horrible wrath of the Crossover! The cliff-hanger shall be your punishment for not reviewing the re-loaded version of chapter two of _Opposites Attract_!

**Lieh:** ::sweatdrops::

**Nachzes: **BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

**Lieh:** -.-;

**Summary: **

_Harry Potter_X_Yu-Gi-Oh!_ crossover. Yuugi, Malik, Ryö, Seto, and Mokuba go to Hogwarts; the magic of the Sennen Items and that of wizards clash; and someone _other than Harry_ is having prophetic dreams of Voldemort. Oh, and what's this? Sirius isn't dead.

**Disclaimer:**

::whines and grovels:: Do I have to say it? ::pouts:: Fine. ::sob:: I don't—::sob:: own—::sob:: it! WAH! ::runs of to cry in a corner::

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items**

**Prologue**

**By: Nachzes-Black Rider **

**--_Dreamscape_-- **

_**A man paced back and forth across a grimy room filled with shelf after shelf of dusty books and scrolls, tarnished candelabras littering the tops of the blackening bookcases and lighting the room with the flickering quality of the light the feeble flames produced. The scent of old papyrus and sand was strong here, giving the room the almost depressing atmosphere of the abandoned attic of an old and shabby mansion. The man's jet-green, almost black, cloak fanned behind him like a cape of darkness and shadows, red eyes gleaming through the darkness like a demon's—slit-like pupils dilated in the thick, black air. Suddenly, another man stepped out from the shadows, and the sound of old, rusting hinges creaking penetrated the deadly silence. The one who was pacing stopped abruptly, and turned to face the newcomer, his cloak rustling loudly and then stilling in the thick air. "Do you have it?" he asked the other in a cold, high-pitched, hissing voice. ** _

**"Yes, my Lord," the man replied in a stutter. As he said this, he reached into his cloak and brought out a velvet bag, handing it to the one in the green cloak. The man took it, and, almost reverently, began to open it. As the deep amethyst velvet fell away, a pulsing golden glow filled the room, the man who had brought the bag gasping in shock. The first man then reached in, and pulled a golden scarab about as large as a small child's fist out of the sack. The light, which filled the darkened room, emitted from the Eye of Ra carved onto the surface of the scarab's shell. As the first man raised the object up to eye level, his pale face was illuminated in the haunting golden glow, making it look almost skeletal in appearance. **

**"There's a clip," he said suddenly, squinting as he examined the object. "Almost as if…" he trailed off and opened it up, removing the silver chain holding his cloak ties together and clipping on the scarab broach. There was a flash of golden light, a blood-curdling scream, and then everything went black.**

**--_End Dreamscape_-- **

Harry Potter gasped and dropped his book to the hardwood floor of the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with a thud as his scar suddenly seared with pain on his forehead, his breathing deep and rapid from the adrenaline that pounded through his veins as a result of the vision he had just experienced.

But he wasn't the only one who had experienced that particular vision….

**To be continued…. **

**Nachzes:** ::glares:: review my fics and I may be merciful in posting the next chapter within a space of half a year!


	2. I: Letters From Hogwarts

**Kaiba:** Remind me again why you're writing this story.

**Nachzes:** :sticks out tongue: 'Cause I want to.

**Kaiba:** And why is Mokuba so…opposite…from what you usually write?

**Nachzes:** :sweat drops: Don't rub it in, okay? I think I went a little…overboard trying to make him act in character instead of making him trail after you acting like some sort of demented four-year-old.

**Kaiba:** I see….

**Nachzes:** And you're _still_ not in character. You're acting FUNNY:sobs: I AM A FAILURE!

**Kaiba:** ….

**Summary:**

_Harry Potter_X_Yu-Gi-Oh!_ crossover. Yuugi, Malik, Rou, Seto, and Mokuba go to Hogwarts; the magic of the Sennen Items and that of wizards clash; and someone _other than Harry_ is having prophetic dreams of Voldemort. Oh, and what's this? Sirius isn't dead.

**Disclaimer:**

:snorts: Oh, yeah, sure, I _totally_ own it. I mean, duh, I'd REALLY be writing fan fiction about my OWN STUFF if I owned it. Translation: I DON'T OWN IT, IDIOT!

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items**

**Chapter One: Letters From Hogwarts**

**By: Nachzes Black-Rider**

_—Re-cap—_

**—Dreamscape—**

"**There's a clip," he said suddenly, squinting as he examined the object. "Almost as if…" he trailed off and opened it up, removing the silver chain holding his cloak ties together and clipping on the scarab broach. There was a flash of golden light, a blood-curdling scream, and then everything went black.**

**—End Dreamscape—**

_—End Re-cap—_

Indigo eyes shot open, and then just as suddenly snapped shut again as the bright morning sun struck at them. Moaning, the owner of said blue-violet orbs rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow, long, tousled raven-black hair spiking messily out from his head.

_Tap_, _tap_, _tap_.

Mokuba growled and grabbed another one of the thick, sterile white hotel pillows and jammed it over his ears to try to muffle the sound.

_Tap_, _tap_, _tap_.

Inhaling deeply, the eleven-year-old looked up from his pillowand froze. There was a bird at his window. An _owl_. A particularly handsome tawny barn owl was hovering outside the window of the room of one Mokuba Kaiba in the penthouse of one of the most expensive hotels in the World—Hotel Kaiba—located in San Francisco, California, clutching a letter in one scaly foot, the other being used to tap at Mokuba's window. Mokuba blinked, and then buried his face in his pillows again.

_Tap_, _tap_, _tap_.

Angrily, Mokuba's head snapped up from its preferred position again, and the boy started, surprised to see that 1: The owl was very real, and 2: The owl was very there. Mokuba shook his head, wondering what on Earth the World was coming to , and crawled out of his queen-sized bed to pad over to the window. Opening it, he grumbled tetchily to the owl (who hooted pleasantly and nipped the back of the boy's hand in an affectionate manner—Mokuba yelped in surprise and swatted it away). "What's an _owl_ doing out before noon on a Saturday anyways?" the boy asked no one in particular. The bird, in response, hooted again and took off through the now-open window. Mokuba raised an eyebrow and turned the letter over, but not before seeing the address:

_Mr M. Kaiba  
__The Sunniest Room in the Penthouse  
__Hotel Kaiba  
__San Francisco,  
__California_

The back of the envelope was just as strange. The seal that held the thick, parchment-like paper closed was formed of magenta-red wax, a crest stamped into the centre—four animals (a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake) twined around a letter: _H_. Suddenly, and outburst of noise from the room connected to his made Mokuba jump and nearly drop the letter in his hand.

"WHAT THE HELL! WHY IS THERE AN _OWL_ OUTSIDE MY WINDOW AT 11:27 IN THE MORNING ON THE NINTH OF JULY, ANDWHAT! STOP _STARING_ AT ME YOU DUMB BIRD! BUZZ OFF!" There was the slam of a door, and Mokuba winced.

_Poor owl…._ The eleven-year-old tip-toed into Seto's room and opened the window, coaxing the bird into the room. Carefully, the boy slid the letter off the owl's leg and allowed the usually-nocturnal animal to fly off, closing the window behind it. Peering at the back of the envelope, he raised an eyebrow. _Strange, that's the same crest that was on my letter, too._ He shrugged and flopped down onto a navy blue leather loveseat, propping his feet up on the ebony coffee table as he did so, and slit open his letter.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
__(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Kaiba,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await you owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Mokuba's mouth dropped open. _Magic? Me? Kaiba, Mokuba? Little brother of Kaiba, Seto; the same Kaiba, Seto who refuses to believe in magic? No way…._ But something—perhaps curiosity—made the eleven-year-old pull out the next sheet out parchment and read it, too.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform  
_First year students will require:  
__ 1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
__ 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
__ 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
__ 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
__ 5. One set dress robes  
__Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books  
_All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
_ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_ A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
_ Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 1)_ by Samantha Sato_

Other Equipment  
_1 wand  
__1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
__1 set glass or crystal phials  
__1 telescope  
__1 set brass scale  
__Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"Wow," Mokuba said. "I think this might be for real." Suddenly, he jumped up as he heard the door behind him slam, a furious Seto storming into the room, still dressed in nothing but a pair of navy blue silk boxers and a long, over-sized, midnight blue—almost black—T-shirt.

"Fucking Hell," he muttered to himself, stalking over to his walk-in closet and jerking a pair of pants and a shirt off of their respective hangers. "What is this world coming to! Honestly, owls hovering outside your window in the middle of the day! I'm going to fire the manager of this branch if it's the last thing I do, I swear. Can't even tell me what the Hell and owl is doing outside _my_ window…." He stopped, standing on one foot, pants half-on, half-off, gaping open-mouthed at his little brother. "Mokuba?" he asked. "What are you doing in here?" Mokuba blinked at him, and the elder shook his head absently, closing his mouth with a snap, and finished pulling on his pants. Doing them up, he stripped out of his shirt and tugged the other on, running one slender-fingered hand through his russet hair. "Mokuba," he said.

"Uh huh?"

Seto raised one eyebrow and dropped his hand to his side. Sounding slightly amused at the look his little brother was giving him—one of feigned innocence—he said, "What do you want?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, "what are you doing in my room?", Mokuba?"

"Reading a letter."

"Uh huh. Who from?"

"Some school," Mokuba answered evasively. "Actually," he continued, feeling bolder by the second, "there's one from you, too."

"Is there?" Seto said, obviously not interested, halfway to the bathroom. "What do they want?"

"I don't know. I haven't read it."

"Oh. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until I'm done my work for the day." The brunet started for his private bathroom, probably to clean up, but Mokuba's voice stopped him.

"I really think you should read this now, Seto. It might be important."

Seto turned around. "And why do you think that?" His eyes flickered, hardening slightly. "What makes you think that it could be important? Is it something from Yuugi and his bunch of friendship-obsessed disciples; are you lying to me, Mokuba?"

Mokuba rolled his eyes and crumpled the letter into a ball, chucking it at Seto, who caught it out of pure instinct. "Just read the damn letter, _'Nii-sama_ (1)," he snapped, exasperated, and stormed out of the room, leaving Seto glaring after him, half dumbfounded, and half furious. Turning sapphire eyes to the balled-up parchment in his hand, the elder Kaiba un-crumpled it, and flattened it out, studying the address on the front with a raised eyebrow.

"Mr S. Kaiba, The Master Bedroom of the Penthouse, Hotel Kaiba, San Francisco, California? What the Hell is up with that?" He shrugged and ripped the envelope open, yanking the sheets of paper within it out.

""Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"," he read, now frowning at the paper. ""Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)"." His glare intensified, and he raised his glare to the door separating his room and Mokuba's. "This is so not worth my time," he muttered, but he lowered his eyes once again to the paper and continued to read on, silently this time, anyways.

**±º±**

_Dear Mr Mutö,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await you owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform  
_Sixth year students will require:  
__1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
__2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
__3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
__4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
__5. One set dress robes  
__Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books  
_All sixth year students should have a copy of each of the following:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_AnAdvanced Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 6)_ by Samantha Sato_

_Mr Mutö, as you are starting in year six, you will also require the following books:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch  
_An Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 1)_ by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 2)_ by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 3)_ by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 4)_ by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 5) _by Samantha Sato_

Other Equipment  
_1 wand  
__1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
__1 set glass or crystal phials  
__1 telescope  
__1 set brass scale  
__Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

Yuugi stared at the letter in his hand a little longer before hesitantly reaching out to touch his darker half's mind hesitantly. /Yami/

/_Yes, Aibö (2)?_/

/What do you think/ Yuugi asked, gesturing at the pieces of parchment. /Should I go/

There was a flicker in his mind, and Yami's semi-transparent figure appeared beside him, scrutinizing the papers with narrowed crimson eyes. /_I do not know,_/ he said slowly. /_It could well be a trap, or perhaps one of these 'practical jokes' that your friends speak of._/

/I don't think so, Yami. Look at the authenticity. It's far too detailed to be a practical joke, as far as my knowledge goes./

/_Yes, but it could still be a trap._/

/I suppose. But we'll never know if we don't try it; and look at it this way: You could easily protect me, so there's no harm done./

/_I guess not. Still…._/

/Tell you what, I'll let you have control for the meeting, how's that. That way, if you feel I'm in danger, you can easily respond./

The violet-eyed teen felt Yami consider it, and then nod his affirmation. /_Very well. Is there some note attached with an indication of when the meeting will be?_/

/Hang on, I'll look./ Yuugi turned the envelope upside-down and shook it, tapping the bottom with one finger to try and dislodge any scrap of paper that may still be lurking inside. There was a rustle, and a slip of parchment fluttered out and drifted to the floor. Yuugi smiled and picked it up, feeling Yami peer through his eyes in an attempt to read the kanji.

Finally, Yami huffed in defeat and sat back in his soul room, frowning as he felt a ripple of laughter from Yuugi come through the mind-link. /_What does it say, hikari (3)?_/

/It says: "To find out more, please go to Tokyo Park at 3:00 PM on the date of July 9th. Someone will be waiting by the fountain to tell you more about the school and provide you with other essential information, as well as the money for airfare, a train ticket to the school, and the needs to set up an account in the wizard bank."./

/_Well, it sounds good to me. I suppose all that's needed is to talk to your 'jii-san._/

Yuugi beamed and sent a brief "thank you!" in his dark's direction before bounding down the stairs with a joyful whoop of "GRANDPA!".

Now it was Yami's turn to chuckle at his lighter half, dark, blood-red eyes glinting with amusement at the boy's exuberance.

**±º±**

He watched from the shadowed corner booth of the pub, swathed in a long, dark, floor-length black cloak, a drink held in one hand and a smirk gracing thin, pale lips. Black eyes glinted from the depths of the shroud, greasy hair hanging down to partially mask his face.

"…items of great power…the Dark Lord gave his orders yesterday…the kidnapping…tomorrow…afternoon…."

The stranger's posture straightened slightly, and his eyes seemed to gleam even brighter now, but no more was said, the men merely standing up and tossing a few gold coins onto the table and taking their leave. The man in the shadows swore quietly to himself and stood up himself, placing three silver tokens onto the rough wooden surface of the table behind him and sweeping out of the pub after the other two.

Golden sand gleamed in the bright Egyptian moonlight and crunched slightly under his boots, the tiny grains shifting as he walked along in pursuit of the other two. Almost as if they suspected someone to be following them, they looked around shiftily a couple times each before they ducked down another alleyway in the Ancient city. Tapping on the door to one crumbling house, they whispered something under their breaths and the wooden barrier swung open. They slunk in, being extra careful to seal the door behind them, a dark red light glowing briefly from between the cracks in the wood before going out as if extinguished.

Severus Snape swore angrily and stomped off in the opposite direction again, fuming.

_Well,_ he thought wryly, _at least I know something…_ he paused. _Someone's in trouble, and I'm willing to bet that Albus will know who…._

**To be continued….**

**Translations, End Notes, Etc.:**

(1) _Big brother_

(2) _Partner_

(3) _Light_ or _Lightness_

**Nachzes:** Yeah, Seto was kinda…:coughs:.

**Kaiba:** :glare:

**Nachzes:** What? You worried 'bout the cliffy:looks at it: It's not the cliffy I had planned, but it'll do. If I didn't finish this chapter quick, I was gonna die.

**Kaiba:** :mutters to himself:

**Nachzes:** :yawns:blinks sleepily: Whazzat, Seto-kun?


	3. II: Meet the Representatives

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Nachzes: Just in case any of you people reviewing know about my YamiXSeto fetish—that's the reason he doesn't have his own body. Seto's scheduled to be with…someone else. -shifty eyes- TLD and Willowwind, no giving away who! Hui, I'm talkin' to you as well! And, no, to all those wondering, there is no Yami no YuugiXYuugi (puzzleshipping), but there are hints of tendershipping (Yami no BakuraXRyö )—this especially for you, Hui. And you, Water-Mage-Girl. If you ever decide to R&R this fic…. Anyways, my uke-Seto fetish at least shall be sated! -grins-

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Kaiba: …I still can't believe you paired me off with (CENSORED).

****

Nachzes: You'll get over it. You star in quite a few lemons in this fic, you know! On the bottom, of course.

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Kaiba: -dryly- Oh joy.

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Nachzes: -squeals- I know! I get to torture you _SO MUCH_ in this fic! It's Ü _BER_ awesome! Plus you get the most coolest reason to act OoC!

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Kaiba: …-has read plotline ideas- You have twisted ideas of what is 'most coolest'.

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Nachzes: I probably do, but all the Seto-torturing fangirls will join me on the fact that it is the bestest! -chibi grin- Now, on with the fic! -slams her hand down on a red button- Oh, and just so you all know, yes, I _do_ dislike Dumbledore. The last book ruined him for me. I strongly disapprove of bashing, though, so I won't be doing that. -twitches- Must…resist…urge to bash…Yami no baka…and…Dumbly-dork…. -twitches again-

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Summary:

__

Harry PotterX_Yu-Gi-Oh!_ crossover. Yuugi, Malik, Ryou, Seto, and Mokuba go to Hogwarts; the magic of the Sennen Items and that of wizards clash; and someone _other than Harry_ is having prophetic dreams of Voldemort. Oh, and what's this? Sirius isn't dead.

****

Warnings: Established YAOI in later chapters, NON-CON, bloodshed, language, TORTURE, and OoC characters (Seto's being funny again…).

****

Disclaimer:

I'm in the middle of a bargain with Joanne and Kazuki-kun, but I don't own them. …Yet…. -evil laughter- Joanne, my dear, you killed Sirius, and now I shall kill YOU! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

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Harry Potter and the Sennen Items

Chapter Two: Meet the Representatives

By: Nachzes Black-Rider

"Are you sure about this, Severus?" Dumbledore, renowned Headmaster of Hogwarts, asked, his light blue eyes serious, silver hair and beard glinting in the sunlight that peeked through the sizable picture window behind him.

"Positive, Headmaster." Snape's coal black eyes glittered menacingly, tendrils of his greasy hair that had escaped from their tie hanging down to frame his slightly-tanned sallow face.

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples, forehead wrinkling. "Doesn't give us much time to plan, does it?" he sighed wryly, the corners of his lips twitching in a humourless smile. "Well, you'll have to notify Lupin and Bill to get there a little earlier. They're the ones who are supposed to be meeting them about the school. And no, Severus," he added when Snape opened his mouth to protest, "there's no other way. They are their informants, and I cannot switch it around. I am already"—here he checked his pocket watch—"twenty three and a half seconds late for my meeting with Misters Mutö and Bakura." He clapped Snape on the shoulder as he turned to the fireplace, taking a pinch of emerald green powder from the pot upon the mantel. "Just do your best, Severus. That is all I can ask of you." He waved his wand at the empty grate, brilliant crimson flames leaping up from the cold ashes at the bottom, and threw the powder into them, turning the dancing orange and red flames bright green. Moving to step into them, he stopped suddenly, looking over his shoulder. "Yes, Severus?"

"Are you sure that this is wise, Headmaster? Inviting these…foreigners…to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Yes, Severus, I do believe it wise. You never know what edge in the war this could give us."

Snape ducked his head in acknowledgement and turned to leave, shutting the door behind him as Dumbledore stepped into the flames.

****

± º ±

/**Mö Hitori no Boku **(1)**? Are you up?**/ Ryö asked cautiously, clutching the letter carefully in one hand. Irate grumbling met his hesitant inquisition, and he cringed apologetically. /**Yami-kun?**/ he questioned again, timidly.

/**_What?_**/

Ryö squeaked, startled, as his darker half appeared in spiritual form beside him, the appropriately-named _yami_ looking quite menacing with an irritated scowl on his face and his arms folded across his chest. /**I…I thought you should look at this letter,**/ he stuttered mentally, averting his eyes from his opposite's. Bakura snorted, and his spiritual form vanished as he took control from Ryö, narrow burnt-umber eyes peering carefully at the slightly-crumpled parchment before them as he scanned the letter.

/**_It seems fine to me,_**/ he said, vanishing to his soul-room again. /**_Do what you will, Host; but wait until after the meeting to decide._**/

/**I will, Yami-kun. Thank you!**/

Bakura grumbled again, frowning into the twisting shadows that consumed his domain in the _Sennen_ Ring. /**_I must be going soft in my old age,_**/ he thought—half to himself, and half to Ryö/**_I _am_ over 3 000, you know._**/

Ryö's soft laughter echoed through the halls of his mind as the spirit drifted off into sleep.

****

± º ±

/_Are you sure we're in the right place, Hikari?_/

/Yes, Yami/ Yuugi replied from within his soul-room, exasperated. /The message said to meet in Tokyo Park at 3:00 this afternoon. This is Tokyo Park, it's three-o-clock, and it's July ninth./

/_Yes, but no one's here,_/ Yami pointed out.

/So they're late./

Yami took a moment to consider that, then/_…Sorry, Hikari,_/ the darker half responded sheepishly.

/…It's alright, Yami/ Yuugi sighed, utterly unable to stay mad at anyone for very long.

Yami smiled inwardly and turned around, nearly yelping in surprise, but catching himself from doing so just in time.

There, where nobody had been before -1-, was an old man in a golfing sweatshirt and old blue jeans, wearing a long silver beard, hair the same colour, and New Balance sneakers, his sky blue eyes twinkling merrily behind delicate half-moon frames. "Hello," the man said in accented Japanese. "My name is Albus Percival Melfric Brian Dumbledore -2-, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Am I right in assuming that you are Mr. Yuugi Mutö of Tokyo, Japan?"

"Yes," Yami said slowly, scrutinizing the man carefully through narrowed crimson eyes. "So, you're the…delegate…from this school?"

"I am," Dumbledore said. "But please, sit." He himself plopped down on the edge of the fountain and patted the grey stone beside him companionably. "Don't let my presence keep you from enjoying this wonderful day!" He beamed around at the grassy park, silver hair and beard glinting in the light, and then turned back to Yami, who had perched himself awkwardly on the rock ledge beside him and was continuing to stare openly at the man.

Suddenly, a soft British-accented voice piped up from behind Yami. "Hello, are you the representative sent from Hogwarts?" it asked.

Dumbledore blinked and looked up, and Yami swung around again to be face-to-face with Ryö Bakura. "Hello, Bakura," he said politely. Ryö smiled at him and then turned his attention to Dumbledore.

"Are you this emissary that the letter I received spoke of?"

"Indeed I am," Dumbledore said. "I am headmaster Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You must by Mr. Bakura." He stood up to shake Ryö's hand, and then gestured to the seat beside his. "Why don't you sit down, and we can talk."

"Thank you," Ryö said, smiling faintly and taking the seat offered.

Getting comfortable in his seat once again, Dumbledore began speaking.

"So, what do you wish to know about Hogwarts?" he asked, smiling politely at Yami, who snapped out of his trance immediately and straightened up, doing his best to appear regal and important.

"Well," he said, "I want to know where it is, and what it teaches, and how many grade levels there are, and all the basic information," he said, ticking the points off on his fingers one at a time. "Then we can talk business," he concluded.

Dumbledore looked at Ryö for conformation, who nodded; "that sounds good to me."

"Fair enough," Dumbledore said. "The school is set in the English countryside, about a seven hour train ride from London, and it focuses on seven core elements of magic—Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Charms—as well as offering an assortment of option courses once you complete second year such as Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. Since you are both sixteen, you will be placed in a the sixth year—which corresponds with your age—and you will have extra lessons on the weekends and for two hours after regular classes to complete the previous five years. Then, if you chose to come back next year, that will be your final year, as there are seven "grade levels" at Hogwarts. Does all of this make sense so far?" he asked. Yami and Ryö nodded. "Very well." Dumbledore went on.

"Hogwarts is also split into four houses according to your mental capabilities and where your priorities lie, what your life values are, etcetera. When you come over, you will be sorted into one of these houses—it should make it easier to make some new friends, as well. Also, since you are going to start off in sixth year, we have to decide your options today (if you decide to go, of course), and we will arrange to pay for sufficient transportation to take you to London in a week or so. This way you will have time to set up a wizarding bank account and buy all your school supplies as well as anything else you will need over the year.

"As an added note, anyone above second year is allowed to visit the village of Hogsmeade on pre-set dates if they get their permission slip signed by a parent or guardian," the man finished, pausing to give to two boys some time to think, which they accepted gratefully.

/_What do you think, Hikari?_/ Yami asked Yuugi.

/I like the idea/ Yuugi confessed. /I've never been out of Tokyo before—except for Duellist Kingdom and Battle City, and then we were in remote locations—and Ryö -kun always tells the best stories about England. I want to go./

/_Are you sure? Anzu and Jö nö chi and everybody will be here in Tokyo._/

/Yes, but it's probably the only opportunity I'll have to do this, Yami. Besides, I nothing's stopping me from writing to them, and I can always make friends at Hogwarts, too, so I won't be alone. Besides, I have you, too./

/_…I suppose. But I don't want you rushing into anything without considering every aspect first, Hikari._/

/Please, Yami? I may never get to do this again/

/_It's not my decision to make, Hikari. I'm just cautioning you. It's your life and your body, after all._/

/…./ Yuugi was silent for a while, and then he piped up again, small voice confident. /I want to go, Yami. It's a great opportunity to meet new people, learn about another culture, and get educated about my abilities as well./

Yami smiled. /_Okay, Hikari. If that is your decision._/

/It is./

"Have you two come to a decision yet?" Dumbledore inquired, looking at Ryö and Yuugi each in turn. Ryö's eyes came into focus once more, and he nodded his affirmation along with Yuugi, who had regained control from his yami once his decision had been made.

"I want to go," the spiky-haired boy said, violet eyes gleaming with expectation. "I think it will be cool!"

"I wish to go as well," Ryö said. "It's been a while since I visited England. I miss it."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Then, let's get down to business and decide which options you two want to take."

****

± º ±

Seto Kaiba was not happy. Not happy at all. And, unfortunately, there was no way to avoid this _unhappiness_, as he would now refer to it as. Not unless he hunted down the Hogwarts delegates himself and killed them—a possibility that appeared quite feasible indeed, but then Mokuba would probably suspect something.

And he didn't want Mokuba mad at him again—it had hurt enough last time.

So Seto had decided to resolve his problem by pacing back and forth endlessly until the time came for them to meet with these…_representatives_ for the school, and then he would drop Mokuba off, and resume pacing.

Yes.

__

Sounds good to me, the teenage billionaire thought to himself, continuing to pad up the room in one direction, and then go back in the other over and over again. After all, if he _did_ wear a hole in the carpet, it would be easy to have the hotel staff fix it and put in a new carpet. Maybe a darker blue this time instead of cerulean….

Suddenly, as Seto continued to muse over this possibility and size eleven feet kept true to their current momentum of walking back and forth across the penthouse master bedroom, the phone rang. Muttering death threats to whoever had interrupted him and his feet, Seto snatched up the cordless phone from its cradle on the bedside table and stabbed the _talk_ button viciously, holding the object to his ear. "Yes!" he barked into it, pleased when his tone was met with a startled _eep!_ on the other end.

"M—Mr. Kaiba—?"

"Yes!"

"Umm…" it was the girl at the front desk, Seto recognised her voice. Damn, he knew he should have fired her after that bird incident. Along with everyone else in charge of this branch….

"Sir?"

And there she went, yanking him rudely out of his fantasies of sobbing ex-employees again…oh, well. He'd make sure she paid for it.

"Yes?"

"I was saying, Sir, that there are two men here to see you. Now, they don't have an appointment booked, but they say that they're here early to speak with you about a school…?"

"Send them up."

"Sir?"

"SEND THEM UP I SAID!"

"Y-yes, Sir!" she hastened to fit in before he slammed the phone back down again, turning it off.

__

Stupid girl….

± º ±

Morosely, Malik Ishtar shuffled his feet from his perch on the bench, glaring grumpily at a group of pre-adolescent boys kicking a discarded pop can back and forth with delight, the crimson sunset behind them framing their black tresses perfectly and their deep brown eyes gleaming.

Malik's glower grew deeper, and he slouched lower in his seat, trying to ignore his own presumptuous dirty-blond hair and lavender eyes, crossing his arms defensively over his half-bare chest.

Suddenly, there was a loud _crack_ from behind him, and he whirled around on the bench, blinking dumbfounded at the sight that met his eyes.

A greasy, hook-nosed, black-haired man was standing in front of him—dressed in black dress-slacks held up by a glossy black leather belt with a silver buckle, a black silk dress-shirt, a shiny black satin tie, and polished black dress-shoes, his shoulder-length ebony hair tied back into a low ponytail with a black velvet tie. He also had—Malik noted—black eyes.

__

What the fuck, Malik thought. _What _is_ this guy? Some sort of slayer…?_ He had to stifle a laugh at the thought.

The man cleared his throat, and Malik snapped back to attention again. "You need directions or something?" he asked casually.

"…No. I am the ambassador from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sent to inform you about the school and extend a welcoming invitation into our midst—my name is professor Severus Snape, and I teach Potions at Hogwarts." The man—Snape—extended a hand, face straight. Malik burst out laughing, clutching his sides as he nearly keeled over and fell off the bench.

"The Whatsit?" he finally managed to gasp.

Snape frowned. "Didn't you get our letter?" When Malik shook his head _no_, a flicker of suspicion crossed over the teacher's face. "You _are_ Malik Ishtar of Cairo, Egypt, right?" he inquired, scrutinizing Malik closely. The blond blinked rapidly.

"Yeah…" he said. "Why?"

Snape sighed. "This is going to take some explaining," he began.

Malik cocked an eyebrow. "I've got time."

****

± º ±

/What do you think I should take, Yami/

/_It's up to you, Yuugi, but Care of Magical Creatures sounds interesting. I wonder if they'll show us some Duel Monsters…._/

/I doubt it, but, yes, I definitely want to go into Care of Magical Creatures. What else do you think I should take, though? Divination or Ancient Runes/

/_Hmm…knowing Bakura, he'll go into Divination…and it _would_ be useful to be able to tell the future like Isis. …On the other hand, Ancient Runes could be very useful if you wanted to go into a career dealing with ancient artefacts. Either way, it's your choice, not mine._/

/Yami, it's your second life too. I don't want you to be bored out of your mind! But, alright…I'll try Ancient Runes. After all, we've already got the Tauk -3-./

/_True._/ The link closed, and Yami sat back in his soul room and watched as Yuugi tuned to Ryö and said something. The white-haired boy looked up, and Yami tuned into the conversation, mildly interested in what courses Ryö would be taking.

"…Arithmancy and Divination," the teen was saying.

"Really?" Yuugi replied. "I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes." He smiled brightly. "I might get a job working as an archaeologist like _'Jii-san_ (2), and that way I'd be able to read a lot of the ancient text. Plus Care of Magical Creatures should be interesting. …I wonder if there really are unicorns…" he mused, trailing off.

Ryö smiled and then looked up as Dumbledore's shadow appeared over them.

"Have you both decided your options?" he asked.

"Yes," both boys replied at once, and grinned at each other.

"Good," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out—seemingly out of nowhere—two large stacks of parchment, handing them to Yuugi and Ryö. "This is the paperwork you need to fill out—most of it you can do now, the rest will have to wait until you get home; it needs to be signed by your parent or guardian. Yes, Mr. Bakura?"

"Umm…I live on my own, so…."

"You are your own guardian in this case. Just sign your name where it says _parent or guardian's signature_, and I'll handle the rest."

"Okay," Ryö said, pulling a pen out of the breast pocket of his sweater and uncapping it, beginning to scrutinize the documents carefully, filling in information where it was needed and occasionally asking Dumbledore about a certain line. Yuugi slowly toiled through as well, signing his name where necessary and scribbling down the answers to the usual questions.

Finally, both had finished (or, in Yuugi's case, finished as much as he could fill out on his own), and they handed back the completed forms. "Lovely," Dumbledore pronounced, tucking the parchments back into his pocket. "Now, listen carefully: On September first, the Hogwarts Express leaves London for Hogwarts. Here are your tickets—and, no, the _platform nine and three quarters_ is not a mistake. To get onto it, just run through the wall between platforms nine and ten—anyone who is magic should be able to get through it.

"Now, for the question of how you will get to London, don't worry—on the night of July fifteenth, I—or in the case that I cannot come, another representative for the school—will return and provide you with sufficient transportation and chaperone to get to The Leaky Cauldron Inn. Your lodgings are booked and ready on both the Knight Bus and in the Leaky Cauldron, so no need to fret over that.

"There in London, you will be shown how to set up and account in Gringotts bank, and then you can purchase your supplies for the year. After you finish all that, your chaperone will help you to catch up a bit on your studies in the evenings and for a few hours on weekday afternoons, as well as half a day on weekends. During the day you will be free to explore the area—both wizarding and non-magic—but do make sure that you have someone to accompany you, preferably your chaperone. These are dangerous times. Do you understand?"

"I think so…" Yuugi said, and Ryö nodded, writing something on his hand. "But, why are times dangerous right now?"

"I cannot say here, but you will find out soon enough—someone will inform you shortly, but it's not safe to say in such a crowded area filled with muggles."

"I see…." Yuugi mulled it over, nodding slowly. "That makes sense, I guess. So, what time on July fifteenth?"

"Around seven or so—just make sure that you're packed and ready to go with all your forms signed, okay?"

"Yup!" Yuugi chirped. "That sounds great, doesn't it, Bakura?"

Ryö smiled again. "Wonderful," he said, getting to his feet. "Well, I have a shift that starts in a couple minutes -4-, so I need to go and talk to the manager." He held out a hand to Dumbledore (who shook it) then turned to Yuugi. "I'll see you around," the white-haired teen said, pushing a strand of hair back behind one ear. Yuugi grinned.

"We sure will," he said. "I'm glad someone I know is going. I was a little nervous in the beginning to tell the truth."

"Glad to be of some help," Ryö joked over his shoulder. "Bye."

"Bye!" Yuugi called back, then turned to Dumbledore. "It was nice meeting you, Dumbledore-sama. I should go talk to _'Jii-san_."

"By all means, yes," Dumbledore said, shaking Yuugi's hand as well. "It will be wonderful to have you at Hogwarts," he added, waving him off and beginning to walk away himself.

Yuugi smiled. /A nice man/ he said inwardly.

/_Yes,_/ Yami said. /_He is a good choice as Headmaster. Wise and caring and just—the way it should be. I am honoured that he is the one who will be watching over you while you are at this school._/

Yuugi laughed. /Glad you think so, Yami. Glad you think so./

****

± º ±

The atmosphere in the living room of the penthouse was tense and awkward, that much was certain, Lupin decided. He and Bill had arrived at the penthouse in San Jose early, as they had been bidden by Snape on Dumbledore's orders at the last minute, instead of waiting in the park as had been originally planned, and so far all the two parties (Lupin and Bill, and the two boys they were telling about the school) had done was stare at each other.

"So, Weasley-san—" began the one with hair as black as a raven's wing.

"Mr. Weasley, Mokuba," interrupted the other (his older brother, Lupin was told. He wondered where their parents were. Out on a business trip, perhaps?).

"—Mr. Weasley," the younger one amended obediently. "…Tell us about Hogwarts."

"You can call me Bill, Mokuba—" said Bill.

_Probably hoping to ease the tension,_ Lupin thought to himself.

"You'll call him Mr. Weasley, _Otöto-chan_."

"Yes, Seto."

"…."

The corner of Lupin's mouth quirked up slightly as he watched the scene continue to play out in front of him like some muggle TV programme. It was highly amusing to watch the eldest Weasley brother be shunted by a boy eight years younger than him—for all Bill's charm, the werewolf sincerely doubted that he could win this one over; but, for the moment, it was fun to watch him try. Chuckling quietly to himself, Remus leaned back on the leather chesterfield, sandy hair falling into his eyes as he relaxed. Bill shot a resentful glare at him, and cleared his throat.

"Perhaps you'd care to help me enlighten these two on the facts of Hogwarts, Remus. You were there most recently."

Lupin yawned and stretched out leisurely. After he finished, he said—quite graciously in his opinion—"Actually, I believe you were. You were there when you visited young Harry before the Third Task two years ago, remember?"

Bill's face twisted sourly, and then brightened as the chestnut-haired boy spoke directly to someone other than his brother for the first time since they had arrived.

"But he was only there for a short span of time—you were there for a year."

Now it was Lupin's turn to frown. "Well…yes, I suppose…."

"And Remus, just think, it's only a year's difference!" Bill supplied cheerfully, his happy demeanour returning to him in leaps and bounds. Lupin glowered at him.

"Well," he said, "_I_ think—"

There was a yell from someone outside the room, and half the wall separating the living room of the penthouse from the short span of hallway outside was blown inwards. Instantly, the russet-haired brother sprang up and dived towards his brother, scooping him up and making a dash for the door to the fire escape. Bill leaped up from the couch as well, plunging his hand into his pocket for his wand—

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!"

Bill's wand went flying, and Lupin jumped into action, snatching it out of the air and pulling his own wand out of his back pocket. The someone who had disarmed Bill (a someone shrouded in a night-black cloak, his face hidden by a bone-white mask) levelled his wand at Lupin, but was stopped by another.

"_STOP THE PRIEST_!" the wizard yelled. "_IGNORE THE OTHERS, THEY ARE UNIMPORTANT_—_STOP THE PRIEST_!"

"_STUPEFY_!" shouted another deatheater, a jet of red light shooting from his wand and striking the brunet brother between the shoulder blades. The taller brother froze, then crumpled. The younger let out a cry and grasped for the boy's hand, only to be seized by a fourth deatheater, who disaparated on the spot with a loud _crack_.

"BILL, GET THE OTHER! WE CAN'T LET THEM GET AWAY WITH BOTH!" Lupin shouted, tossing Bill's wand to the redhead, who immediately used it to immobilize the two deatheaters closest to the unconscious brunet and grabbed the boy's hand himself, then vanished along with his comatose companion and Lupin, leaving the remaining deatheater behind in the penthouse.

****

To be continued….

Translations, End Notes, Etc.:

(1) _Mö hitori no boku_:_ The other me_

(2) _'Jii-san_:_ Grandpa_

1- Muahaha…how I wish _I_ could disaparate and aparate at will.

2- Dumbly-dork's full name. Mentioned in TPS (_The Philosopher's Stone_, or TSS—_The Sorcerer's Stone_, if you're American and your government decided you have no vocabulary), and OotP (_Order of the Phoenix_), as far as I can remember. At least, I _think_ it's mentioned in TPS….

3- In Battle City (season two), Isis—or Ishizu, if you're a dubbie—gives Yuugi the Sennen Tauk (Millennium Necklace), and her brother Malik (Marik) hands over the Rod.

4- Hey, Ryö lives on his own. He's _gotta_ have a job.

****

Nachzes: And now, a special announcement from Host-Chan:

Jenn: WAH! Everybody cry with me! I'm in France when the sixth book comes out! -anime waterfall tears- I've had it pre-ordered for, like, six months now, and I'm gonna miss it! -sobs inconsolably-

****

Jenn's Friends and Readers: …Dude, you get to go to _France_!

****

Jenn: …-sniff- Yeah? So? I'm gonna miss the sixth book! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR IT FOR, LIKE, FOREVER!

****

JFaR: ….

****

Jenn: -continues to sob-

****

Nachzes: -patpatpat- It's gonna be okay, Dear.

****

Jenn: WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

****

Nachzes: -claps hands over ears- REVIEW PLEASE!

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Review Responses:

Meiharu: …Spell-check tries to change your name to either _Medicare_, _Emhart_, _Maher_, _Meagher_, or _Nehru_. I think the last one's the coolest word—don't you? Anyway, thanks for your review. Appreciate it. And I've _told_ you why I use cliffies—this way you're more compelled to read my fic.

Willowwind Adurois: I would list your options, but there are too many. And I am a lazy ass. Congrats on your Seto muse. Good luck handling him, though. Damn you on your review count.

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Cathy-Bloom1: You're simply _Cathy-Bloom_. No _one_. -grin- Yes, Snape _does_ kinda remind you of Strider in that scene, doesn't he? -considers this-

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ty-maica: And _you_, you're special. There are no spelling suggestions for YOUR user name. Yup—another crossover. Look out for one under the _Anime Crossovers_ section soon too—the prologue for _Awakening a Dragon _should be up in a day or two.

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Nightbringer: Another 'separate two words' issue. Yes, they already go to school in Japan, but, so did Harry, remember? -wink-

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Saggi the Dark Clown: Only the first word of your name—but you probably knew that, didn't you? Let's see…_Saggy_, _Sage_, _Saga_, _Sago_, or _Sagged_. Your choice. I think I replied to your review already over e-mail. REVIEW THE OTHER CHAPTERS, DANG YOU! …Did you boycott? How did _Teddy II_ get taken down? -confusion-

Hui Xie: You and your Chinese. -shakes head- Hmm…once again, too lazy to name all the different possibilities. Damn you all with your more-than-one-word-user-names-with-both-words-spelled-wrong. Yes. Review this chapter and the previous one, and maybe I'll review yours. -glare- And answer your questions. ADD ME TO YOUR FRIENDS LIST ON LIVEJOURNAL, DAMN YOU!

tiger 889: With you, simply a capitalization issue. GRAMMARISPRECIOUS! Spelling is not. Nya, Willowwind. -sticks out tongue- -clears throat- Yes. Anyways, your question would be answered if your read the rest of the fic. I hate it when people review and then forget about your fic. And even _with_ the cliffhanger. SEE, **MEIHARU**, _THIS_ IS WHY I NEED CLIFFIES!

felixgirl: Two different words. Again. Seems to be a lot of those. Why thank you for your praise. -bows-


	4. III: Doko de Mokuba

**Nachzes:** I'm surprised I didn't receive any reviews about this—everyone's age (at least the _Yuu-Gi-Oh!_ characters') ages are the same as they are in the series. This is because otherwise I couldn't get everything to fit properly—plus I probably wouldn't be able to do a sequel! Technically, since I _am_ saying that they did everything (Duellist Kingdom, Battle City, DOMA, etc.), everyone should be at least a year older. I believe that DOMA and Battle City both take place during the summer, and Duellist Kingdom is actually just a weekend in September/October (so Seto would have been, like, fourteen. Ho-ly shit.).

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items**

**Chapter Three: _Doko de Mokuba_**

**By: Nachzes Black-Rider**

**_—Dreamscape—_**

**_The room was dark like last time, with only the golden light from the strange broach to light it. Those same blood-red eyes from his last vision glared out of the darkness, while long, pale white fingers curled around the arms of a chair, so tight that the outline of the man's knuckles could be seen. Around the chair—which was pushed up against the exact centre of the wall behind it—were several figures swathed in black robes, kneeling in an awkward semi-circle with several gaps within it, as if invisible figures genuflected there along with the others. Suddenly, a high, cold voice spoke. The voice of the man in the chair._**

**_"Why have you failed to capture the_ Hem-Netjer-Tepey _(1) for me?" he asked, his demon's eyes narrowing, the others around him flinching. "Well!" he snapped, his hands tightening further and his pupils slitting, "What have you all to say about this atrocity! He should not have been hard to capture—he does not know who he is! Do you not realize the power this could give us! He is the edge we need to win!" All the others winced, and one shuffled forwards, bowing his head until it touched the rough sandstone texture of the floor, trembling all over. _**

**_"M-My Lord," he stammered, stumbling over the words, "there were others there also—the eldest Weasley brother, we are told, and the werewolf. We believe that they were sent there by D-Dumbledore as embassy's for Hogwarts."_**

**_The one referred to as Lord leaned back in his chair, his grip relaxing as he mulled this over. "Well this is a development," he murmured, a bit more than a hint of bitterness in his tone, "it would seem that are rivals have gotten to him first. …You tell me you managed to capture one of the Priest's companions, Rookwood -1-? Which one was it—Weasley or the werewolf?" _**

**_"N-neither, S-Sir," the man stuttered, cringing as if expecting a blow. "I—it was his younger brother, I believe."_**

**_"Hmm, I don't remember a sibling mentioned in the Scriptures that fool woman showed us—"_**

**_"B-but we are sure that he was, Lord!" the man cried. "He told us so himself, under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse. Fujimaki thinks that he would make good bait, My Lord, if we were to deliver the Priest a ransom note…."_**

**_"Idiot!" the other spat, revulsion gleaming in his eyes along with something else…something darker…—"He will surely have been taken with the others to the Headquarters of the Order! We do not know the location—we cannot send a note!" He paused. "However…SnapeCome here!" _**

**_Another man came forwards, head bent. "Yes, My Lord?" he mumbled._**

**_"I want you to give this to the Priest—make sure he knows it's meaning is clear. If he wants his brother back, he must give himself over first. Understood?" The Lord handed him a slip of parchment he had magically conjured, and the other took it._**

**_"Yes, Lord." The man bent down further and kissed his master's feet, then shuffled back to his place in the circle, stowing the piece of yellowish paper away in the pocket of his robes for the moment as he did so._**

**_"Oh, and Rookwood? Rabastan -2-? Lestrange -3-? Fujimaki -4-?"_**

**_There was a chorus of "Yes, Lords," and the man in the chair grinned sadistically._**

**_"I have not forgotten that you've failed in you mission." He raised what looked like a wand from the pocket of his robes, and the eyes of the four men widened in stark terror behind white masks._**

**_"No, Lord; please!" one cried, but it was too late._**

**_"CRUCIO!" the man with the wand cried, and a jet of red light shot from the tip of his wand, splitting into four separate beams and striking the men he had called right in the chest. Screams erupted in the room, overlaying the maniacal laughter of the man in the chair as the cursed forms writhed on the floor in pain. _**

**_—End Dreamscape—_**

Harry Potter shot awake, panting, his scar burning in his forehead—a familiar pain by now, but not a missed one. Putting a hand to his brow, he tried to cool the flaming scar by pressing on it as hard as he could, grunting when it didn't work, and letting his hand fall to the bedcovers. A loud snore from the bed beside his told him that his friend Ron was still sleeping—at least he didn't have to worry about waking him. Harry's lips twitched in a sardonic smirk, then he jumped as he was jerked out of his bitter thoughts by the sounds of whispering downstairs as the door being closed behind someone, all the little chains and bolts being set back into place. Curious, the black-haired sixteen-year-old eased out of his bed and pattered across the room, pulling open the door and stepping out into the hall beyond.

The flicker of candlelight from the entrance hall below told him that someone was indeed up, and by the whispers, he guessed that they were trying not to wake the rest of the house, as if the visitors were either unexpected or a secret. Tiptoeing further down the stairs, Harry peered over the banister into the living room, squinting into the darkness. He could make out furtive whispers from behind the half-open door separating the front entrance from the room below him, and the slight wavering glow of the candle flame. As he watched, the door creaked open slowly, and Harry could make out four figures—three that he recognized, and one he didn't. Silently, he wondered to himself why Bill Weasley and Lupin would be coming by so late at night—especially carrying another person with them who was obviously unconscious and didn't belong to the Order.

"Set him down here," Mrs. Weasley whispered, gesturing to the plump couch across from the infamous Black Family Tree tapestry—they still hadn't been able to remove it.

_So it's a _he, Harry thought, mulling this over and turning his attention back to the scene below him as Bill and Lupin carefully lowered the person they held onto the chesterfield. As Mrs. Weasley set the candlestick down on the end table closest to the arm of the couch the figure's head rested on, the boy's features were lit up, and Harry started. He recognised this person!

Seto Kaiba—the renowned teenage CEO of KaibaCorp., which had just recently made its debut in Europe with the release of the popular game Magic and Wizards -5-—was lying, unconscious, on a couch in the living room of the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Still only half-there,Harry watched as Lupin raised his wand and pointed it at Kaiba. "_Enervate_ -6-," he whispered, and the fact that Seto Kaiba had been stunned barely registered in Harry's brain in his detached state.

Then, suddenly, an low groan jolted him out of his shock, and he peered back down into the living room, where the newly-conscious Kaiba was now stirring slightly, mumbling quietly.

"Mokuba…?" he groaned, feeling around blindly. "_Otöto-chan_…?" he asked again, eyes fluttering open when his questing hand came into contact with the couch. "What the?" he muttered, squinting closely at the couch and then slowly lifting his head and scanning the room, blue eyes narrowed. Harry stiffened when they neared him, but the searching orbs continued on, and he barely had time to loose a sigh of relief when they alighted on Bill.

"_You_!" he heard Kaiba hiss, the teenage-CEO getting to his feet and stalking towards the redhead, fairly radiating fury. "_You_;" he heard Kaiba say again, then continue, "where the _fuck_ am I, and _what_ have you done with my little brother!" Harry's eyes widened as Kaiba stopped just short of walking into Bill, and was relieved to see that Bill had a height advantage…even if it only was by four or five inches….

Everyone downstairs seemed to be shocked into momentary silence—broken only by the sound of Kaiba's harsh breathing—and then Mrs. Weasley's indignant voice spoke up, now equally as angry as Kaiba's.

"You step away from my son, Young Man, and explain yourself."

Kaiba laughed, and Harry shivered at the malice hidden in that cruel chuckle.

"There's no need to explain," the brunet smirked, "these two know exactly what I'm talking about. Now, are you going to answer me, or do I have to force it out of you? _Where_. _Is_. _Mokuba_?"

Lupin coughed nervously, his first sound of the evening, as far as Harry could tell, and stepped forwards. "Now now," he said, addressing Kaiba, "let's not get violent. I'm sure we'll be able to work this out in a more civilized manner if you'll just have a seat here, Seto." He gestured to the couch, and Kaiba glared at him.

"It's _Kaiba_," he growled, "and if you do not tell me _right now_ what the Hell those Goths-slash-drag queens were doing in my hotel room, and where my little brother is, I'm going to _kill_ you."

How he managed to keep his voice so neutral, Harry never knew, but the little bit of fury that did manage to seep through was poisonous. Harry gulped.

Mrs. Weasley, however, was not so intimidated.

Drawing herself up to her full height (which was, compared to Kaiba's, not very much at all), she glared at him, full of righteous anger from the tips of her toes to the ends of her flaming red hair, and spoke. "Now, you listen here, Kaiba," she said, hands on her hips, "I don't know what kind of society you've grown up in, but normally one does not dish out death threats to their rescuers!" She was on a roll now, Harry realized, and he winced as she continued to lecture the young President of KaibaCorp., whose stony face was growing darker by the second.

"I should think that you would be thanking my son and his colleague on bended knee for saving you from those Deatheaters"—here Harry blinked, stunned—"not accusing them of some imagined crime! What you're playing at, I don't know, but Bill most _certainly_ did not harm your brother!" She stopped to take a breath, but Kaiba overrode her, his posture stiffer than ever.

"Look, Lady," he hissed, more and more rage beginning to leak into his words with every one he spoke, "I don't appreciate being told what I should and should not be doing by someone who has absolutely _no idea_ what is going on! Perhaps I should explain, then: One minute I was in my living room with my little brother safely by my side, talking to your son and his partner there, and then the next half the wall is blown apart and four guys dressed in black robes run in! I jump up and grab Mokuba, heading for the nearest exit, hear a shout, and then suddenly I'm _HERE_; ON THIS COUCH, _IN THIS LIVING ROOM_! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY BROTHER!"

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley had taken several steps back in shock, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as Kaiba raged before her, obviously having completely given up on his calm pretence.

"_DOKO DE MOKUBA_! _DOKO DE WATASHI NO OTÖTO-CHAN_ (2)!" Kaiba roared, slamming his fist down on an end table, the ancient wood splintering slightly under the blow. Suddenly, Harry heard the banging of several doors being opened at once, and Fred and George, Hermione and Ginny, Charlie, Mr. Weasley, and Ron all tumbled out of their respective rooms, wands clutched in their hands and still in their pyjamas.

"_DOKO DE MOKUBA_!" Kaiba continued to yell, and then:

"BLOOD TRAITORS, FILTH, DEFILING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!" Harry winced, along with everyone else, as Sirius' mom started up again, and Mrs. Weasley sprinted off to close the hangings across the portrait again as Lupin attempted to restrain Kaiba, who was still shouting the same phrase over and over, struggling madly in the former teacher's grip.

"_DOKO_—"

"—TRAITORS!—"

"—_KUBA_!—"

"DEFILING THE—"

"—_MOKUBA_!—"

"_PETRIFICUS TOTALUS_ -7-!"

Kaiba stiffened and froze in Lupin's arms, and the wizard let him fall to the couch—Harry spun around to see Charlie with his wand outstretched and still pointed at the spot where Kaiba had been just moments before. Ginny was shaking and clutching Hermione's dressing gown sleeve in one hand, and her wand in the other, her knuckles turning white; Ron's face was pasty, and he was breathing deeply, as if to calm himself; Fred and George were both staring down into the living room; and Mr. Weasley's face was unreadable as he turned and started down the stairs, wand firmly in hand.

Looking down on Kaiba's face again, Harry felt a thrill of dread run through him as his scar throbbed painfully and a funny fluttering took hold in his stomach—the Dark Lord had taken an interest in Seto Kaiba, And Harry wasn't at all sure he wanted to know why.

To be continued….

Translations, End Notes, Etc.:

(1) _Hem-Netjer-Tepey_: Egyptian—_High Priest_

(2) _Doko de Mokuba_! _Doko de watashi no otöto-chan_: Japanese—_Where is Mokuba_! _Where is my little brother_!

1- Augustus Rookwood (Department of Mysteries)—one of the Deatheaters that Karkaroff turned in (Book Four); he (Rookwood) escaped from prison in Book Five.

2- Rabastan, a Deatheater whose name is mentioned comes up (very briefly) twice in Book Five; once when Sirius is showing Harry his family tree, and the other time by Lucius Malfoy (in the Dept. of Mysteries) when he's giving directions to the Deatheaters to "spread out to search for Harry and his friends". He's Rodolphus Lestrange's brother, and he broke out of Azkaban in Book Five along with Rodolphus, Bellatrix, Dolohov, and the others.

3- Referring to Rodolphus Lestrange—Bellatrix Lestrange's husband, and Rabastan Lestrange's brother—he escaped from Azkaban in Book Five.

4- Japanese name—I thought I'd send a Japanese Deatheater on this mission. Plus, I think Voldemort would be trying to expand his horizons throughout the World now.

5- Magic and Wizards was the name first used for Duel Monsters in the Japanese version's first series and the manga; I thought I'd put it in here—sounds more English, don't you think? More refined?

6- The spell used to revive a someone who has been stunned. First used in book four on Winky, the house elf, by Mr. Diggory.

7- The full body-bind. Hermione uses it on Neville in book one.

**Nachzes:** Hmm. So, what do you think? Good, so far? I know this chapter's really short, but I couldn't get the flow I needed—you'll just have to wait a little while for chapter four. (Don't worry! The outline for it is just the last three-quarters of what this chapter was supposed to be. WAHH! -cries- My timeline doesn't work properly!

**Review Responses:**

**Cathy-Bloom1:** Yeah, see how angry Seto is! It gets worse, though…but I won't tell you how, only that it's how the leathershipping (that's what I've nicknamed it, since it doesn't have a name already that I know of) starts. Kinda. Hmm…Snape would look weird in Strider getup…sortta. But when does Aragorn wear leather? Loff to you, AND UPDATE SOON, WOMAN!Willowwind Adurois: XP I shun you, Escurcae. -shuns like whoa-

**Yami Pandora:** -chuckles- Well, with two chaptered fics going, it's a bit hard to keep up with writers' block, plotbunnies (for both HPatSI, OA, one-shots, and new chaptered fics), and the fact that it takes me for-_ev_-er to get chapters typed out, read over twice, and then posted. It's a never ending cycle, and sometimes I hate it—but then I get a review, and that cheers me right up, so thanks!

**Calai'di:** Horray horray horray! Reviews from Calai'di! -jumps for joy- No, I didn't realize I mentioned your B-Day twice there…what is it—July 9th?

**felixgirl: **Why thanks! But, yeah, Seto's following more the 'manga Seto' in this fic, while in my others he more resembles 'subbed anime-Seto'. Mokuba's more like 'manga Mokuba' in this one, too…he's kinda…yeah.

**Ice-Spirit Phoenix:** Yay! You reviewed! -loves you- So…care to spare a guess at the 'mystery pairing' with Seto in it? -grins-


	5. IV: The Knight Bus

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
****Chapter Four: The Knight Bus  
****By: Nachzes Black-Rider**

"_To flag the Knight Bus down, all you have to do is thrust your right arm—you are right-handed, right? Left? Well, then, just stick out your left arm, and the bus will appear shortly. A flobberworm could do it—if a flobberworm had arms, that is."_

Those had been Professor Snape's parting words before he had disappeared into thin air, not even giving Malik the chance to ask him what in Ra's name a _flobberworm_ was.

The blond grumbled tetchily to himself as he stuffed some extra shirts and pants into his duffel bag, "Stupid school and its stupid professors—telling me how to flag down a bus. Well, I'll tell you, I _know_ how to flag down a bus. What in the Underworld which arm you use has to do with it, I don't know. Idiots…" he huffed, and stood back.

"I'm missing something…" he muttered. "Isis!" he yelled, "Where's my jacket?"

"It's by the door—along with your shoes and your dinner," Isis called back, voice floating up the stairs from the kitchen. "Have you got everything, then?"

Malik sighed, zipping up the duffel bag with one final, harsh tug. "Yes, Isis," he shouted, lugging the bag off his bed, and nearly collapsing under the weight. "I've got everything," he groaned.

"Clean underwear?"

"Yes, Isis."

"Shirts and pants?"

"Yes, Isis."

"Your toothbrush?"

"Yes, Isis."

"Deodorant, shampoo, a hairbrush…socks! Malik, do you have—"

"Ra damn it—yes, Isis! I have socks!"

"Just checking…."

Malik grumbled to himself again and heaved his duffel across the floor, managing to move it a scant few feet across the carpet before he stopped, glaring at the bulging sack, and dropped the strap, giving up. "Rashîd!" he yelled despairingly, "I need you to—"

"Yes, master Malik?"

Malik jumped and stared at his adoptive brother standing in the doorway, then narrowed lavender eyes slightly and said, "You don't have to be so sneaky, Rashîd—make some noise once and a while!"

The other's eyes danced slightly in amusement, and he bowed slightly, murmuring, "Of course, master Malik."

"And don't bow, for Ra's sake—you're family! Now, help me carry this damned duffel bag, will you?"

Rashîd bowed again, and slung the strap over his shoulder with another "Of course, master Malik"

The younger threw his hands up in exasperation. "Why do I even try?" he asked the ceiling as Rashîd chuckled, already partway down the stairs. Shaking his head (but smiling slightly all the same) Malik followed his brother, freed from his duffel.

"Malik!" Isis exclaimed when he walked into the kitchen. "_What_ are you wearing!"

Malik glanced down at himself. "Clothes," he confirmed. "New cut-offs, a clingy lavender tank top—"

"Malik…."

"—an oversized navy blue sweatshirt with a rubber ducky on the back—"

"Mal—"

"—lace-up sandals, but no socks—"

"Malik!" Isis snapped, glaring at him.

"—ponytail, earrings, and my ducky briefs," Malik finished, blinking at his sister. "What?"

Isis sighed, and then pulled Malik into a tight hug. "Nothing," she said. "Come on—you don't want to be late." Letting him go, she slipped her feet into her sandals and opened the door, waving Malik and Rashî d through and closing it behind her as she followed. "So how are you going to catch this bus?" she asked Malik as they walked towards the road.

"That Snape guy said I needed to flag it down—wave my arm at it like a flobberworm, or something like that."

Isis looked at him strangely, and Malik shrugged. "That's what he said," he insisted. "He told me to stick out my left arm over the road, and the bus would just _appear_." They stopped walking, having reached the side of the road, and Malik turned to his sister, insisting, "That's what he said!"

"Alright, Malik! Alright!" Isis exclaimed, laughing, and turned him so that he was facing the road again. "Then do it!"

Malik grumbled slightly, and flung him left arm out over the gravel….

_BANG_!

All three Ishtals jumped back, startled, as a giant _purple_, three-decker bus appeared right in front of them, and a pockmarked teen jumped out, his own arm shooting out from his side in a grand flourish as he spoke.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for any stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out you wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike," he bowed, "and I will be your conductor this evening." He stopped as a voice called from inside the bus—a very familiar voice to Malik.

"Excuse me, Mr. Shunpike, but which country are we in now?" the person asked in halting English.

Stan consulted his watch.

"Cairo, Egypt," he replied, just as Malik said, astonished, "_Yuugi_!"

"Oh dear…" Isis murmured.

Suddenly, Yuugi and Ryö's heads appeared in one of the windows, and they—well, Yuugi—waved excitedly to Malik.

"_So _you _must be that mysterious third new student Moody-_san'_s told us about_!" he called in Japanese.

"_Moody-_san?" Malik repeated, bewildered.

"_Oh, Dumbledore couldn't come for some reason_—"

"_Dumbledore_?" Malik asked, becoming more confused by the second. "_What_—?"

"Out of the way, Stan," somebody grumbled, and the conductor jumped out of the way as somebody pushed him aside and climbed awkwardly down the steps, thrusting his hand out for Malik to shake. "Alastor Moody at your service," he growled, and Malik blinked, startled, but took the hand proffered to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, staring at the man's mutilated face; half in revulsion, and half in curiosity. "I don't quite understand. Professor Snape—"

"Is right inside the bus," the man called Moody assured him. "Severus!" he barked, turning towards the bus, "it's the Ishtal boy."

"So bring him in, Mad-Eye," Malik heard Snape mutter, and the blond grinned.

Stan was looking confusedly from Malik to Moody repeatedly, and Moody turned to him, growling, "this is the last of our group—pre-paid, right?"

Stan nodded and jumped to help Rashî d load Malik's duffel into the luggage compartment underneath the bus, and Malik turned to say goodbye to his family. Isis smiled at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Luck, brother," she whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. Before be could protest, she continued, "I'll see you at Christmas, and again at Easter, right?"

Malik nodded, and she smiled, hugging him again. "I'm going to miss you, little brother," she murmured, wiping a tear from the corner of one of her eyes.

"I'll miss you, too," Malik replied, pecking his sister on the cheek, then turned to Rashî d, who was standing there stoically, and said, gravely, "it won't be home without you, Rashî d."

The big man's face broke into a smile, and he bowed again, making Malik's nose wrinkle comically.

"You've got to make him stop doing that," he whined to Isis, who smiled and waved him off.

"Have fun," she called as he climbed onto the bus and took his seat. "Goodbye, Malik!"

Malik smiled and raised a hand to wave back just as the bus vanished with another loud _BANG_, then turned to Yuugi and Ryö, and said, glancing at Moody, "_That man's left eye is alive_!" The stared at him, and he frowned.

"_What_?" he asked, and they blinked.

"_Well_…" Yuugi began, speaking in Japanese again, "_I didn't really expect to see you here, since, you know…you don't have a Sennen Item anymore—I mean…you gave the Rod to me_."

Shrugging, Malik replied nonchalantly, "_I guess I'm just special_."

Ryö rolled his eyes. "_More like _normal," he said, also speaking in Japanese—but more for Yuugi's benefit than anyone else's. "_From what we understand, it's very strange to be admitted on the grounds of having some other kind of magic other than what they call "normal". Dumbledore said_—"

"_Again with this _Dumbledore!" Malik exclaimed. "_Who is he_!"

Ryö and Yuugi stared at him. "_He's the headmaster of Hogwarts_!" they both replied at the same time. "_He didn't meet with you_?"

"_No_…" Malik said slowly. "_I met Snape._"

"_Oh_," they both replied, looking foolish. "_Well_."

Malik raised an eyebrow at them. "_So, where are we going_?" he asked.

Yuugi brightened, and opened his mouth, but it was Moody who growled, "London. Now be quiet."

Yuugi squeaked in response and nodded, but Ryö's eyes flashed red and he replied in a snarl, "Why don't _you_ be quiet, old man?"

Moody raised an eyebrow at the normally docile boy and went back to reading his paper with a low _humph_ of aggravation that rustled the thin pages like a small breeze.

Malik raised an eyebrow at Bakura and inclined his head briefly to let the yami know he knew who he was, and turned to stare out the window, slightly bored already, and yet overwhelmed.

_If the Pharaoh and the Tomb Robber are already here, along with their hikaris, then who _else _could be going to this "Hogwarts"…?_

**-o-**

A good two hours and several stops later—stops that managed to dumb each of them unceremoniously out of their seats at least twice—Malik, Ryö, and Yuugi eased themselves gingerly out of their seats and followed Moody and Snape out onto the damp London street. Stan followed them, appearing slightly morose in his maroon uniform which had promptly appeared to _wilt_ as he stepped out into the icy fog. Casting a suspicious look about, the conductor unloaded their luggage and promptly jumped back onto the bus, the purple vehicle driving off down the street at breakneck pace, a random hardware store leaping out of its way hurriedly.

Malik stared after it and shook his head in disbelief. "Amazing," he muttered. "Apparently you don't have to pass a test to be able to drive in the wizarding world. Lovely. We'll probably all be dead by the time we finally get to this school." Behind him, he heard Bakura chuckle menacingly, and he grinned himself, bearing slightly-pointed teeth. "That would be an excellent way to get rid of someone you didn't like, wouldn't it, Bakura?" he asked. "Just stage an accident, and plead that you had no idea what you were doing."

"A death befitting of the Pharaoh," Bakura replied, shooting a ominous gaze at Yuugi, who blinked nervously.

_It's fun to be normal again_, Malik realized. _Just joking around with Bakura…._ He smiled, and sat down on the curb next to his duffel bag, glancing over to where Moody and Snape were whispering to each other. Satisfied that the two were sufficiently occupied, he asked Bakura—speaking in Japanese for Yuugi's benefit—"_So do you think we should tell them about…you know…_" he gestured toward the golden ring hanging around Ryö's neck, "_the Items_?"

The yami frowned and fingered the prongs of the Ring absentmindedly as he replied, slowly, "_No…there's too much that I don't think we want them to know_."

"_But someone could get hurt_," Yuugi put in. "_I think we should tell Dumbledore about the Items and the rest, and he'll decide whether anyone else should know or not_."

"_What about the spirits_?" Malik asked. "_You can't go around telling everyone you're possessed…and I, for one, don't want everybody treating me weird because of…_" he paused, "_Battle City_," he finished. Bakura nodded firmly, but Yuugi frowned.

"_I think we should tell Dumbledore about the Pharaoh and Bakura's yami_," he insisted. "_We can ask him not to tell anyone else, or to keep it to the staff, and we could always keep some details to ourselves_."

Bakura opened his mouth, then shut it, frowning. "_Maybe…_" he said slowly, then grinned wickedly. "_And we could always threaten to send him to the Shadow Realm if he squeaks when we don't want him to_." Malik frowned, but said nothing, deciding to decide for himself whether or not to tell this Dumbledore about Battle City when he met him. Still thinking, he waited for Moody and Snape to finish their conversation, looking up at them when they re-joined the group of teens.

"We're going to be taking a cab to the place where you will be staying for the rest of the summer," Moody grunted. "In a week or so someone will take you shopping for your new school supplies, and help you set up your new bank account; most likely Hagrid. Until then, you are to remain inside the premises at all times. Understand?"

Raising an inquisitive eyebrow that bought the disapproving glares of both adults, Malik nodded hesitantly, Yuugi and Bakura following suit. Moody grunted again, and hobbled away to flag down a taxi, leaving Malik wondering bewilderedly why they weren't going to be allowed to go out.

"_Maybe they think we'll get lost_," Yuugi supplied, causing Bakura to scoff, and Malik to shake his head.

"_They're hiding something from us_," he replied, feeling a familiar twinge of anger at this.

Bakura growled in affirmation, and said, lowly, "_Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm not going to stand for that—I _hate _it when people hide things from me._" He paused. "_What do you think we should do about it_?"

Now it was Malik's turn to grin malevolently. "_We break the rules, of course_," he said, his mouth still stretched wide in a feral expression and lavender eyes glittering.

"_Of course_," Bakura said.

"_Oh, look_!" Yuugi said, as if he hadn't heard. "_It's the taxi_!" He stood up, and Malik and Bakura followed suit, the latter giving control over to his lighter half again when Malik poked him in the small of the back.

Loading their bags into the trunk of the cab, the three youths piled into the back, Moody climbing awkwardly in to sit beside them, and Snape taking the seat up front.

"Where to?" the driver asked pleasantly.

"Grimmauld Place," Malik heard Snape reply from the front seat.

"Right away, Sirs," the man replied.

**-o-**

A half hour later, having reached their destination, the five exited the cab to more depressing fog. Grumbling, Malik muttered, "I'd heard that the weather in England was damp, dark, and depressing, but I didn't think that it would be this bad…." Moody and Snape both gave him strange looks, and Yuugi and Ryö frowned disapprovingly at him. "What!" Malik asked them. "It _is_!"

"And for a good reason, too, Laddie," Moody said, a dark ring to his tone. Snape shot him a glance, and Moody fell silent, but Malik felt suspicion creeping up his spine like so many tiny insects.

"_And for a good reason, too"? Now what could that mean…?_ he wondered, wrinkling his brow in thought.

"Here." He heard Snape's voice, and looked up to see the professor impatiently holding a piece of parchment out to him; taking it, Malik raised an eyebrow at the address and glanced at the houses around them, then looked back down at the parchment again, confused. "You have to concentrate on thinking only about the address," Snape said, as if this were obvious. Yuugi, Ryö, and Malik exchanged looks of bafflement, but obeyed, closing their eyes dutifully.

Crinkling the paper up in his hand, Malik thought hard, repeating the words _Number 12, Grimmauld Place_ over and over in his head until he couldn't think of anything else. Suddenly, Yuugi's startled gasp made his eyes shoot open, and he stared, astonished, as a large, dark-looking house seemed to grow up from the ground between two others.

"_Impossible_…" he breathed, and Snape smirked at him, snatching up the slips of paper from the hands of the three teens and tearing them up, then shoving them back into his pocket, striding off towards Number Twelve. Still in awe, the boys followed, Moody bringing up the rear, looking as foreboding and unreadable as ever.

Malik watched as Snape walked up to the door and rapped on it sharply with his knuckles. Presently, there was a faint scuttling sound from behind the door, and a shaky voice asked, "Who is it?"

Raising an eyebrow, Malik's suspicion mounted a notch as Snape replied, "It is I, Snape, accompanied by Moody, bringing the three new students." He stepped back slightly, and Malik heard the rattle and clink of dozens of locks and chains being undone before the door swung open, a harried-looking red-headed woman ushering them all inside and quickly closing the door behind them, bending to re-fasten the locks.

"Albus is in the kitchen with them," she whispered to the two adults after straightening. "They've been in there all day, discussing that ransom note—"

"What ransom note?" Malik asked, snapping to attention. "Who's discussing it?"

The woman jumped, and Malik got the distinct impression that he wasn't supposed to have heard her. "Never you mind, dear," she said, beginning to shepherd everybody out of the entryway, flicking what looked like a wand at their bags and making them float along behind them. Malik stopped in his tracks to stare at the strange phenomenon, but the woman continued to usher him along. "I'm sure you'll find out later, anyways." She added with a slight frown, shooing Malik and the other two teens up a set of stairs. "You're in the fifth room to the left," she said. "If you want, you can join the others in the living room—second door on the right—after you get settled."

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Malik nodded, and continued up the stairs, Yuugi and Ryö following behind him. Reaching the top of the stairwell, he paused when he saw a group of boys—and two girls—peering down into the floor below, a gangly, redheaded teen slowly feeding what looked like several long, flesh-coloured pieces of string down over the edge of the banister.

"They're starting again," one of the girls (one with flaming red hair) whispered to the others. "Hurry, Ron!"

"I'm going, Ginny, I'm going!" hissed the boy who was holding the strings. Finishing quickly, he handed one to everybody in the group, and they inserted them into their ears. "Good," he said after a while, "they're summarizing the meeting for Snape and Moody—that means we didn't miss anything important." He fell silent again.

Malik shifted awkwardly, and glanced behind himself at Yuugi and Ryö, who looked equally as uncomfortable.

"Uh…" Malik began, clearing his throat loudly. The others' heads jerked up suddenly, and they looked around at him, eyes wide.

For a while, silence reigned, and then: "…Oh!" the redheaded girl exclaimed softly. "It's the new exchange students!"

Malik coughed, and felt Ryö brush past him as the other stepped forward. "Hello," the white-haired boy said, "I'm Ryö Bakura, and these are my friends, Malik Ishtal and Yuugi Mutö. He gestured to each of them in turn, and then held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Yuugi bowed in welcome, and Malik watched as a black-haired boy stepped forward and shook Ryö's proffered hand. "Harry Potter," the boy said.

"Ron Weasley," said the carrot-topped boy with the strings. "This is my sister, Ginny," (he waved an arm at the redheaded girl, who waved) "and mine and Harry's friend, Hermione Granger." He pointed at a bushy-haired girl standing by the banister.

"Hello," Malik said. Yuugi nodded.

There was another moment of awkward silence, and Malik blurted, "So what are you doing?"

"Oh!" said Ron. "They won't let us into the meeting, so we're listening in on them. Extendable Ears," he explained, holding up one of the strings. Malik raised an eyebrow.

"Extendable…ears?" he asked. Ron nodded.

"Fred and George made them last year—luckily, I still had some. Otherwise we'd still be being left out, as always." He frowned darkly at this.

_Being left out…I can side with that_, Malik thought, remembering. "So what are they talking about?" he said aloud.

Ron jerked slightly, and peered over the banister again, holding a hand to his ear. "That ransom note," he answered after a while. "They've been talking about it all day." He looked slightly disappointed. "Haven't they said all that they can about that thing!"

"Apparently not," the girl named Hermione said matter-of-factly. "What have they said about it so far?"

"Just that it deals with that Kaiba bloke and some kid called "Mokuba"—"

"What!" Malik, Yuugi, and Ryö all blurted at once. "Kaiba! Mokuba!"

The other four stared at them. "Yeah," Ron said. "Why? D'you know him?"

"Yes…."

"In a way."

"You could say that."

Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared at them. Finally, Hermione spoke: "Well," she said, "I think we all have some explaining to do."

The three Battle City veterans looked sideways at each other, and grinned.

**° ¥ ° **

Alone in a cold cell, the boy shivered violently. Although during, what he assumed was, the day, the cell had been warm—even hot—now that it was night, it had turned out to be freezing.

_I'm in the desert_, the boy deduced. _In the middle of the desert, being held captive—_again_!—just so that these evil people can get their hands on my brother!_

Punching the sandstone wall violently, he winced as searing pain ran up his arm, and he clumsily wrapped his torn, bleeding knuckles up in the hem of his shirt, cradling his bruised hand close to him.

Leaning back against the cold stone, gritting his teeth hard against the sparks of pain from both the aftermath of his torture, and his injured hand, Mokuba began to cry silently.

'_Nii-sama…._

**To be continued….**

_Okay, first of all: Even though it pained me greatly to do so, I have left that last bit in _italics_, so as not to confuse you. Yes, it is Mokuba thinking. Thank you._

_Also—sorry, I couldn't bring myself to drag this out any longer than necessary, so the plotline has been set back just a little bit now. Originally, everybody was supposed to go shopping for supplies today…but after a little brainwave (and some general laziness on behalf of the authoress), I have decided to leave that until _after _a great deal of Seto-angst taketh place._

_Your welcome (NOT _sorry_), fellow Seto fans—I know how (we) all like to see him being tortured. :)_

_Again, review responses on my LiveJournal at _www(**DOT**)livejournal(**DOT**)com(**SLASH**)users(**SLASH**)nachzes_. Thank you for reading, and I hope you all have a good weekend…life…whatever._


	6. V: Plots All Around!

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Five: Plots All Around!  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

Severus Snape glared across the kitchen table at Bill Weasley. _The fool actually thinks that we could—and should!—rescue the boy!_ he thought, incredulous. His frown deepened. _He is too easily influenced by what has happened to him._ A pause as he raised hi mug of coffee to pale lips, then, _He will see._ Snape's eyes flicked over to where Dumbledore was sitting, and he set his empty mug down, clearing his throat slightly to draw attention. Blue eyes met his, and Dumbledore inclined his head slightly towards Severus, lending permission to speak. Clearing his throat again, Snape opened his mouth and said, smoothly, "The Dark Lord will not throw aside his—henceforth—only known form of leverage over the Priest so lightly. We need time to plan; time to banter; time to—"

Bill's hand slammed down on the table with a _bang_, cutting Snape off. All eyes turned to him as he yelled, "But he's only eleven!" and Snape's lip curled.

"You are blinded by your desire to play the hero, and past events, Weasley!" he snapped, and Bill stiffened.

"She was my _fiancée_!" he cried, his voice breaking on the last word. "Can you blame me?"

Snape brushed the comment aside with a lazy flick of his wrist, appearing supremely unconcerned. "That is irrelevant," he said. "What happened to you cannot be used to determine the Dark Lord's actions this time around."

"On the contrary, Severus," came Dumbledore's voice, and Snape's slightly triumphant look soured. "We must consider the possibility that Voldemort" (the entire table winced at the name) "will chose to fulfil his promise. He has, after all, acted so rashly before."

Bill's emerald eyes held a fervently hopeful gleam in them as he said, quickly, "So we're going to rescue him?" There was a tension-filled silence, and Bill said, more slowly, this time, "We _are_ going to rescue him, right?" Dumbledore sighed, and the sparkle went out of those green eyes. "He's only eleven," he repeated in a whisper, the silence humming around them. "He's only eleven."

There was a cough, and Snape's head snapped around to face an awkward-looking Remus Lupin. "I have to say that I agree more with Severus on this one," he said. "We don't want to push You-Know-Who into acting too quickly—there's too much of a chance he'll do something injudicious if we _force_ him to do something." He looked around the table, pausing at Bill, as said, placing an emphasis on each word, "We need a plan. We need _time_ to _come up with_ a plan. We need to wait."

Bill looked away, his hands tightening into fists, and—in Snape's opinion—made a last-ditch attempt at swinging the vote. "What about Seto?" he said from between gritted teeth. "What will this decision do to him?"

But nobody answered him.

**° ¥ ° **

Harry couldn't help it—he stared at the three teens sitting across from him, disbelief etched all over his features. The boy named Yuugi looked at him sadly. "You don't believe us, do you?" he asked in heavily-accented English. Harry felt his face flush in embarrassment—hadn't he himself been told that all that he had seen and experienced was a lie? He glanced down at the back of his right hand, and felt a familiar thrill of anger run through him. Did he believe their story? He asked himself, the silvery outlines of the words "I must not tell lies" seeming to float, ghostlike, in way of his vision. True, their story sounded preposterous—how could no one have heard of this before?—but he had probably seemed raving mad when he had gone about telling everybody that Voldemort was back. _I must not tell lies…._ He thought back, remembering the painful desperation, and he knew.

Raising his head, eyes blazing, Harry gave his answer: "I believe every word you said," he replied. Yuugi smiled.

**-o-**

—**_Dreamscape—_**

_**He knew where he was going to be the second his head hit the pillow. His scar had been burning all night—it had to happen. But that didn't make the sudden sensation of cold night air, or the gritty texture of sandstone under his feet any less surprising. Looking around, he spotted the high, throne-like sandstone chair, and the figure in it—the same figure who had haunted his dreams for years—Lord Voldemort.**_

_**The Dark Lord spoke, and Harry felt the shiver run through the air as the black-cloaked figures around him trembled minutely at the sound of his high, cold voice. "Snape!" he called. "What is the Priest's response to the ransom note?"**_

_**Another man's voice floated out from the crowd—smooth, and self-assured. "He does not yet know of it, m'Lord. The Order has decided to bide it's time until they are sure of your intentions, and they have decided not to let him know of it until said time."**_

"**_But you could have snuck it to him," insisted yet another—a woman, this time._**

"**_I have not yet had the opportunity," the man named Snape replied smoothly._**

"**_Nevertheless…" Voldemort began, and then paused. "Then again, this may work to our advantage. If we were to…help him discover this himself, then his trust in the Order would be shattered, and he will be that much easier to lure over to our side…. Very well_**—**_Bella, bring in the boy!" One of the hooded figures bowed and left the circle, brushing past Harry, and heading off down another corridor._**

_**Several more minutes passed in complete silence. Second by second the tension mounted a notch, until Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up in anticipation….**_

"**_Let me go, you bitch! Let me _go_!—OW!"_**

**_The Deatheaters jumped, and Harry turned to see Bellatrix dragging a black-haired child towards them, the boy fighting tooth and nail to get free. "Let me go, let me go, LET ME GO!" he yelled as she shoved him ahead of her, avoiding his flailing fists with apparent ease. "LET! ME! _GO_!" But Bellatrix pushed him again, and he fell, tumbling and rolling into the centre of the circle in front of Voldemort's chair. The Deatheaters around him laughed cruelly, and Harry was sure that a smirk was probably curling the corners of Voldemort's thin mouth._**

"**_So, little boy, I see that you still have some spite in you left," he said, a sinister tone creeping into his voice. The boy glared up at him, and Harry saw his face through Voldemort's eyes—pale, with a blue bruise swelling up around one eye, and a smear of dried blood on his left cheek from a cut, but defiant. Narrowed indigo eyes indicated to the Dark Lord that he was completely correct in his assumption that the child still had life in him yet. Harry felt a sneer twitching at the corners of Voldemort's lips, and heard the man's voice as if he were speaking it himself when he spoke, "Well? What do you say?"_**

**_The boy glared harder and spat at the floor in front of Voldemort's feet. "I give no thanks to weak cowards like _youkisima _(1)!"_**

_**Harry felt dread chill his blood at the words—this boy dared speak to Voldemort in such a way? But, at the same time, he silently rooted the boy on.**_

_**Voldemort shook his head almost amiably, and said, tauntingly, "Now now Mokuba, is that really appropriate language for an eleven-year-old? Not to mention it's rather rude…."**_

**_Surprised, Harry stared at the boy. _It's the hostage!**

_**Mokuba's lip curled, and he muttered something in a foreign language under his breath. "It's also rather rude to kidnap and torture somebody, wouldn't you say?" he replied aloud in English.**_

"**_You insolence condemns you, boy!" Voldemort hissed, and raised a hand to strike the boy, but withdrew it as soon as it had touched the other's skin with an angry hiss. Staring, Harry was shocked to see red welts rising on the bone-white skin of Voldemort's hand. Blood red eyes narrowed as the Dark Lord spoke, his tone menacing. "What magic is this—how do you have it, the same power which once protected Harry Potter from my touch…?" The tension in the air crackled, and Harry felt Voldemort smirk. "But no matter." He raised his wand, and Harry felt terror fill him as Voldemort cried "_CRUCIO_!"_**

—**_Dreamscape—_**

Harry yelled as he shot awake, and clapped his hand to his burning forehead, eyes watering from pain, with Mokuba's screams still ringing in his ears. Sitting there sweating, gasping for breath, he tried to block out the sounds of the child's shrieks, and jumped, startled, when Ron gave a loud snore in the bed beside his and rolled over. Still feeling jittery, Harry kicked out of the tangled bed sheets imprisoning his legs, and eased himself out of the bed and onto the floor as quietly as he could, wincing when the floorboards creaked under his weight. Carefully, he stood and tip-toed out of the room, intending to go down to the kitchen for a drink. But, as he pushed open the door, there was a sudden scuttling sound, and he froze, feeling wary. Alert, he slipped into the room and closed the door quietly behind him, peering around the dark room. Silver moonlight filtered through a tiny window situated just above the sink, and Harry could see tree branches moving slightly in the breeze outside.

"Hello?" Harry asked. "Is anybody in here?"

Silence.

Feeling awkward, Harry walked over to the sink and filled a goblet with water, lifting it to his lips and drinking.

He didn't see Seto Kaiba skip silently out of the room and shut the door behind himself.

**-o-**

"Harry?" Hey, Harry, wake up."

Harry groaned and tried to move away from the offending finger prodding him in the ribs, jolting awake, startled, when that he was sitting on wobbled precariously. "Huh?" he said thickly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with his fists. "Wher'm I?" he yawned.

"Dining room table," Bill answered, taking a seat across from him.

Harry groaned and put his head down on the table, burying his hands in his hair. "So that would explain why my neck is so sore…."

"_Mais, bien sur_ (2)."

Harry looked up, surprised. "What?"

Bill looked uncomfortable. "Fleur was teaching me French before…" he took a deep breath, and turned away. "Before she was murdered," he said.

An awkward silence hovered between the two, and Harry shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I just don't understand why they aren't going to rescue him!" Bill suddenly blurted, and Harry looked up.

"If they don't do it soon, Voldemort has a plan to be sure that Kaiba joins him," Harry muttered. "He says that Kaiba's trust in the Order will be broken once he finds out what they've been keeping from him."

"If he ever had any trust in it in the first place," Bill replied, and Harry gave him a grim smile in return.

Suddenly, there was a loud "WHAT THE _HELL_!" from upstairs, and both wizards winced. "WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE!"

Harry sighed, recognizing Kaiba's voice, and dropped his head to the table again. "Not now," he groaned. "Not _again_."

Bill smirked at him. "Now you know what you were like last summer," he said, getting out of his chair and patting Harry on the head. The latter grumbled at attempted to swat his hand away, but Bill laughed and easily avoided the swipe. "I'm off to go calm down Mr. Explosive before he wakes up the whole house," he said cheerily, then paused, listening to the irate mumbles and shouts from above, and added, even more happily, "although I see that he already has."

Harry couldn't help it—he laughed.

**To be continued….**

(1): _Kisima_—Japanese. Means _bastard_.

(2): _Mais, bien sur_—French. Means _But, of course_.

**To Readers,  
From Nachzes:**

_Again, please don't be afraid to offer criticism on the chapter! I even welcome flames! I live in Canada…and fires are pretty. :) As anyone who has met me will tell you, I am a pyromaniac. I get it from my father. _

_Review responses are on my LiveJournal at _www(**DOT**)live journal(**DOT**)com(**SLASH**)users(**SLASH**)nachzes_. It won't be friend's-locked, and I welcome any comments—just put your (ff.n) username at the end or beginning of the message. Also, if you have an LJ account, don't be afraid to tell me so, and I'll add you to my friend's list so you can view my other entries!_

Ciao


	7. VI: Hello

_A note before the fic—the chapter title was taken from the song 'Hello' on _Evanescence'_s CD "Fallen"_

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Six: Hello  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

Though the site which met Bill Weasley's eyes was highly amusing (or, at least it was to him), to his credit, he managed not to laugh; the only outward sign of his mirth being a slight twitching of the lips. Nevertheless, the furious glare that he received from one Seto Kaiba sobered him up a bit, and he unconsciously stood straighter as the brunet continued to scrutinize him.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Set snarled, gesturing to the stunned-looking, pyjama-clad threesome that was Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö. "Did you kidnap the, too?"

Mrs. Weasley appeared affronted at the obvious disrespect of her eldest son, and opened her mouth to say something, but Bill shook his head and held up a hand to silence her. Seto glared harder; he wanted a fight, Bill knew, he wanted something to take out his frustration on—he needed someone to blame. The redhead could understand the feeling, having felt it himself when Fleur had been taken, but he wasn't about to be Kaiba's scapegoat. "Seto," he began, but the brunet cut him off before he could continue.

"Kaiba," he barked. Bill levelled emerald eyes at him, and nodded slightly.

"Kaiba," he conceded, "I assure you that we did not kidnap Yuugi, Ryö, or Malik. Every one of them came of their own free will."

"Well isn't that nice for them," Seto snapped sarcastically.

Now it was Bill's turn to glare. "Would you rather be in You-Know-Who's clutches?"

Seto exploded. "FOR THE LAST TIME, NO, I DO NOT _KNOW WHO_, AND IF IT MEANT THAT I WAS OUT OF THIS GOD-DAMNED HOUSE, THEN _YES_!"

The others—except for Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö, who clearly had no idea what was going on—looked taken aback, and Ron (who had previously been swaying on his feet, drooling) snapped awake.

"Huh?" he blurted. "Whazzat?"

Seto looked disgusted. Lip curling derisively, he said, sounding furious, "I will do whatever it take to get my brother back, Weasley. _Anything_." He paused, allowing the words time to sink in. "And Yuugi will testify to that." And then he left, stalking back in the direction he'd come from.

Once he was out of earshot, Ron turned to Yuugi. "What did he mean by saying he'd do anything to get Mokuba back?"

Everyone shifted their gazes to a pale and shaken-looking violet-eyed duellist. The sixteen-year-old lifted wide purple eyes to Bill's and said, quietly, "He would. He once threatened to throw himself off a tower if it meant he'd gain even a chance of getting to Mokuba." Bill felt a chill run through him at the deadpan words, and he shuddered slightly.

"Then we're in bigger trouble than I thought," Bill murmured, reflecting back on his conversation with Harry. "…_Voldemort has a plan to be sure that Kaiba joins him. …Voldemort has a plan…. Voldemort has a plan…."_ Again, he shivered. "Much bigger."

**° ¥ ° **

Mokuba shivered, hunching against the wall behind him as he heard the racous laughter of the men coming closer. _Drunk_, he thought, wincing in pain as pain raced like fire through his veins when he attempted to move. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed them away impatiently with a grubby fist. _Stop that!_ he scolded himself _Seto would want you to be strong!_ But the tears kept on coming, and Mokuba shifted despairingly as he found himself unable to stop them. Curling up tighter into a ball of misery, the raven-haired boy began to shake slightly with silent sobs.

**° ¥ ° **

_Four weeks,_ Seto thought, staring blankly at the ceiling. _He's been missing for four weeks…._ Twin tears slowly leaked from the corners of dim sapphire eyes, slipping down pale cheeks.

_There's no way he can still be alive, Kaiba, _a voice at the back of his mind told him, and Seto winced.

"No…" he said, but his voice was quiet—too soft to be a real denial.

_Yes._

"No!" Seto sobbed, burying his face in the bed sheets.

_You know it's true, Kaiba. You know it is._

All Seto could do was shake his head, shoulders shuddering with his racking sobs. "No…" he choked out, hands tightening into fists. But only silence met him. Eyes streaming, he raised his head from the mattress. "Mokuba is _not_ dead," he said to the empty air. "He's _not_." His heart pounded in his ears, and his eyes flickered nervously, but the silence stretched onwards, seeming deafening. "He's not," he repeated in a whisper, as if saying the words enough would make it true. "He's not dead."

_He is._

Seto screamed into the pillow, face turning red. "NO!"

_Kaiba, he's gone. There's no point in fighting it._

"He can't be gone! I promised…I promised him…."

The voice was silent for a moment before it spoke again, _You know what you have to do, Kaiba._

Seto shook his head again. "He's not gone, he's not gone, he's not gone. He _can't_ be gone! I promised him…" he repeated like a mantra, eyes blank. "I promised him…."

_Do it._

Seto sobbed again, and the voice took on a gentler tone when it spoke again.

_Mokuba is gone._ Blue eyes wavered slightly, and the light in them died. _Do it._

And Seto reached for the knife.

**To be continued….**

_Bwahahaha…yes, I am evil. Anyone know where Seto got the k-nif-ey from? Right—he snitched it when he was kitchen-snooping in the middle of the night last chapter. See! He was there for a _reason_! (Well…besides insomnia, that is.)_

_Oh, and there should be two time-changes in here—after **Part One**, and after **Part Two**; but the little symbol I usually use to show the passage of time looked really weird when it preceded the POV-change one right away. So I took them out._

_And…**Part Two** is in the night on the same "day" as **Part One**, while **Part Three** is approximately three weeks after **Part One**. (Remember, Seto got to Grimmauld Place a week before Yuugi and the other two.)_

_Next chapter: 'Tourniquet' (yet another _Evanescence _song gacked from their album "Fallen"). Unfortunately, this won't be up for a while, because I have to work on my dad's Christmas present, and my friends' B-Day presents that have been on the wait-list for a while. For all you _Opposites Attract _fans, sorry; I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to make my deadline of the end of the month. One, I'm out of town and can't post, two, there's the reasons mentioned above. Thank you for your understanding, and I apologize again for the inconvenience._

_On Review Replies:  
Signed reviews have already been replied to. Replies to anonymous reviews may be viewed on my LiveJournal at _www(**DOT**)live journal(**DOT**)com(**SLASH**)users(**SLASH**)nachzes_. Thank you for reading!_


	8. VII: Tourniquet

_-Chapter title this time around is from _Evanescence'_s CD "Fallen" (lyrics can be found at _www(**DOT**)azlyrics(**DOT**)com_)  
-Chapter begins a little bit BEFORE **Part Three** of chapter six_

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Seven: Tourniquet  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

"Mom, I don't _want_ to go tell that stuck-up prick that it's 'time for dinner, dear'," Ronald Weasley insisted. "Besides, you _know_ he's not going to come down!"

"Ronald!" Hermione scolded, glaring at her friend. "He's going through a rough time right now; have some common courtesy, why don't you?"

"He's right, though, Kaiba's not going to come down," Harry put in.

"That's right," Ron said, spotting an ally, "and last time I went to ask him, he threw…something…at me!"

"He chucked a pillow at you, Ron," Hermione bit out acidly.

"Yeah, well, he throws hard."

Mrs. Weasley glared up at her son, the firm set of her face promising pain to her youngest son if he even thought to argue any further. "Ronald," she said, "you are going to go up there and ask that poor boy if he wants anything to eat; and so _help me_ if you say one more thing against it!"

Grumbling something indistinguishable, Ron stomped up the stairs towards Kaiba's bedroom, his angry footsteps retreating. Harry heard the redhead's sharp rapping on the door, the moment of silence, and then the creak as the door opened; suddenly, Ron's voice broke the silence. "My _God_—what the Hell are you _doing_, Kaiba!" he shouted.

"YOU WON'T TAKE HIM FROM ME AGAIN!" Kaiba yelled, a crash following his words.

"MOM, DAD, BILL—FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, _SOMEBODY_ GET UP HERE!"

All of a sudden the House of Black was filled with the sounds of a dozen panicked people attempting to all get up the stairs at the same time. Panting, Harry broke through the crowd and sprinted down the hall, screeching to a halt when he saw what was happening: Ron, trying to hold Kaiba down and wrap a bed sheet around one of the brunet's arms, both of which were bleeding profusely, crimson smears decorating nearly everything in sight; and Kaiba, struggling madly against the other's hold, screaming and clawing at anything within reach.

"Oh my God," he heard Yuugi say behind him, voice low; and Hermione gasped sharply, brown eyes wide.

"LET US THROUGH!" Mr. Weasley bellowed, he, his wife, and Bill fighting their way past the crowd of teenagers blocking the door. "Ron, get out of here!" he yelled, and the redhead obeyed, face white beneath its bloody mask. "Seto, you need to let us at your arms so that we can stop the bleeding!" Arthur exclaimed, attempting to shove the boy back on the bed as Bill and the Weasley matron grappled with the teen's flailing limbs, the struggles of which were becoming less and less powerful. Finally, Mr. Weasley managed to pin down the teen, Bill and Mrs. Weasley both wrapping strips of fabric torn off of the bed covers tightly around the brunet's wrists.

"Don't worry, Seto," Bill said, "everything's going to be alright…."

"Idiot," the teen wheezed, and Harry felt a chill at the next words and the demented grin which accompanied them. "I slit _both_ wrists this time; you can't keep me from joining them _now_."

**-o-**

Harry shivered as he looked around the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital. Unlike the last time he had visited, the hospital was nearly empty; one depressed-looking wizard with an elephant's trunk in place of a nose and great flapping ears, a very thin woman with pursed lips and a disapproving frown, and the younger inhabitants of Grimmauld Place were the only occupants. Shifting uncomfortably in his hard plastic chair, Harry spared a glance for the large clock on the wall across from him, discovering that they—Harry, Ron and Hermione, Fred and George, and Yuugi, Malik and Ryö—had been at the hospital for nearly two hours, stuck in the waiting room, while the elder members of the Order were upstairs with the healers. Harry frowned at this and heaved a sigh, getting up and stretching out the kinks in his muscles. "Well Fred," he said. "George," he continued, sending them both meaningful glances, "I think I'm going to go grab a pot of tea at the Tea Shop _upstairs_; it'll give me a chance to stretch my legs. Want to come?"

"Sure, Harry old boy," George said, standing up along with his twin and grinning. "Ron?" he asked, turning to his younger brother.

"Ginny?" said Fred. "Hermione?"

The brunette in question glared disapprovingly at them both, but stood up along with Ron and said, "I suppose we could."

Fred grinned. "What about you, newbies?" he asked Ryö, Malik and Yuugi.

"Oh, I don't know," Yuugi said, "I'm not really one for tea, especially if it's caffeinated. Because my grandpa says caffeine stunts your growth—"

Ron rolled his eyes and leaned in close to cut the boy off. "We're not _really_ going for tea," he whispered. "We're going to…you know…_find out information_."

Yuugi's violet eyes grew wide. "Oh…" he said, "well then, yes, okay. If you're sure that they do have herbal teas."

Now it was Ron's turn to look confused. "But I just told you that we're not—"

"Oh, for Ra's _sake_!" Ginny exclaimed—something she had picked up from Malik. Seizing the redhead's arm, she pulled him towards the staircase, muttering derogatory remarks towards Ron under her breath.

Grinning, Harry exchanged half-amused, half-triumphant looks with his friends. "Shall we, then?" he said, and the eight remaining teens followed Ginny and her detainee up the staircase.

"Okay, here," Fred whispered once they were safe in the deserted stairwell, the redhead handing everyone an extendable ear, "just put these in, and be sure to pause by each door you pass to check if they're in it; we don't want to miss them."

"Right," Ryö said, copying Fred's motions and inserting the tip of the flesh-pink string into his ear.

"Whoa, that feels weird," Malik declared once he had gotten his in properly.

"Don't worry, it's harmless, and you'll get used to it after a while," Fred said.

"We've even equipped it with an automatic volume sensor," George whispered, pausing at a door as he lead the group down the hall, "so it'll adjust automatically to the level of noise in the room; unfortunately, we've yet to find a way to get them to be able to focus on _one voice at a time_ without being able to see the person to cast a spell to 'connect' them to the ears…." He stopped suddenly at one door and pointed. "This is the one," he said. "Now, be careful to stay out of sight, and don't all gather in one huge group. The ears are long, so spread out if you have to, and someone needs to keep watch."

"I'll do it," Yuugi said reluctantly, just as Hermione sighed and raised her hand, and Ryö declared "I can watch; I don't mind". The three exchanged glances, and the rest of the group grinned.

"Alright." Fred smiled. "We'll have three watchmen." His gaze shifted to Hermione, who glared at him. "…People," he amended. "Hermione, you guard that end of the hall; Yuugi, you can watch the other; and Ryö, you can do the stairwell."

Hermione huffed and obeyed, Yuugi and Ryö following suit, although without the great show of peevishness. This settled, the others turned eagerly to the door, carefully threading their extendable ears (which were now wriggling eagerly, it almost seemed) under the wooden portal and into the room:

* * *

"…severe starvation and malnutrition, as well as dehydration and blood loss. We would recommend two cups of blood replenishing potion every half hour, as well as sufficient food and drink, but—"

"But what? Why can't you give it to him?"

"He's unconscious, ma'am; we don't have any feasible way to give him food or liquids while he's in this…state."

"So he's unconscious. Why don't you just wake him up?"

"I'm sorry, but we can't."

"_Why_?"

"Muggles call it a coma, Molly. We'll just have to wait for him to wake up."

"A coma? Dear God, Lupin, really? What do muggles—"

"Arthur! Now is most certainly _not_ the time!"

"Right. Sorry, Molly dear. …So, what can we do?"

"There is one thing we could try…."

"Well _what is it_?"

"It's a muggle method, called an intravenous line, or IV for short. Muggles put liquid medicine in a bag and send it through a tube into a needle, which is inserted into one of the patients vein—usually on the hand, wrist, or neck. In this case we wouldn't be able to insert one into the wrist, I'm afraid, or the hand; we'd have to try the vein near the collarbone."

"Oh, I don't know…muggle medical practices are just so _barbaric_. I mean, they tried to _sew_ Arthur's flesh together."

"It would have worked, you know, Molly, if it weren't for that blasted snake's venom."

"You don't know that for sure, Arthur!"

"Mom, just give it a rest; he's going to _die_ if we don't give the…IV…a chance!"

"_Charles Weasley_! How could you say such a thing!"

"He's right, though, Mom."

"Bill, don't be so—"

"May I just put in, as the healer, that the chances of him waking from this coma are slim. A great deal of what's needed to break free from such a deep…'sleep', shall we say, is the patient's will to live. Seeing as Mr. …Kaiba…ended up in this state because of his…desire to end his life, if might be kinder to just…let him go."

"We will _not_ just _give up_!"

"Bill, you must understand—"

"I don't _care_. Mokuba is _not_ dead, and Seto wouldn't be in this…_state_…either, if you had just done what _I_ said we should!"

"William (**1**), you know why we couldn't do that."

"No, Dumbledore, I don't. I didn't; I don't; and I didn't understand the last time you tried to use that line on me, either."

"Bill, _please_—"

"_If he dies, Mokuba dies too_."

"Bill…."

"Molly, Bill, stop. We'll try the IV, and then if he doesn't wake up after a week, we'll…'pull the plug', so to speak. Is that alright?"

"…Fine."

"Oh, Arthur, if we must, I suppose."

"Very well then. I'll have the IV drip set up in no time. The only thing I ask is that one of your group is with the patient at all times, to monitor his responses."

"I'll do it first."

"Alright, then the rest of you may leave, and Mr. Lupin will stay behind. I recommend that you each have four or six hour shifts, though, so that you can all get your rest. The healer at the desk in the waiting room can help you set a schedule up, if you want."

"That would be lovely, thank you. Well, goodbye, Remus."

* * *

"They're coming out!" George hissed, withdrawing quickly and yanking out in extendable ear, shoving it into his pocket and gesturing for everyone to get going while hurrying towards the door to the stairwell himself.

The teens crowding the hallway all followed suit, performing a spectacular mad dash down the stairwell and all screeching to a halt before walking sedately into the waiting room.

"Spectacular tea," Malik mentioned, and Ryö nodded agreeably. Ron, once again, looked slightly confused, but wisely didn't say anything.

"So what did they say?" Hermione hissed, and Yuugi and Ryö leaned in to listen as the eavesdroppers began to recount the story.

**-o-**

"Well they certainly didn't say much," Hermione said once George had finished speaking. "Just a whole lot about Kaiba's current state…but other than that, nothing."

Fred snickered. "Dumbledore called Bill '_William_'," he said. "He must have been really mad at him. Bill _hates_ his given name!"

"But why—" Ron began, but he was cut off by Fred.

"_Shh_! Look, they're coming!" the twin said, pointing towards the stairwell, where the silhouettes of a group of people could be seen behind the frosted glass.

"Wonder what took them so long," Ron muttered.

"Dad probably wanted to see how to set the IV up," Ginny said, giggling, and the other Weasleys and Harry shared a chuckle as well; Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö looked confused, though, so Ginny explained. "Our dad is…well, he's obsessed, really, with muggle, that's non-magic folk to you, technology. He absolutely _loves_ playing around with plugs and batteries and such."

"Now, Ginny, that isn't a very nice way to talk about your father," Charley said loudly, winking at them. "Hope you heard that little spat (**2**)," he whispered. "_William_! Honestly! Bill's going to be in a temper for the rest of the month!"

Harry grinned broadly. "Really?" he asked.

"Oh, definitely," Charley said, looking positively delighted.

"At least," Fred cut in.

"Maybe two," George said, smirking.

"Of course, we can't say anything," Ginny pointed out, the others looking sufficiently brought down by this fact, "or mom'll know we were listening."

"_You_ might not be able to," Charley said haughtily, "but _I_ can."

"No you _can't_," Hermione said. "Or else Mrs. Weasley will get mad at you for hinting that someone got mad at Bill for some reason, and giving away secrets."

Charley frowned. "Damn," he said, then sighed. "I guess you're right," he said, appearing to be very much put off.

"Ah well," Fred began lamentably, "we'll find some way to annoy him; make no doubt. As we often say in the joke shop business…"

"…it's back to the drawing board," George finished.

This time, even Hermione laughed at the joke, the teens chortling for a good twenty seconds before Mrs. Weasley came over, appearing slightly frazzled and not at all reluctant to be out of St. Mungo's.

"Ready to go, dears?" she asked, and everyone stood up hurriedly, reaching for jackets, and, in the case of Ginny and Hermione, purses. "Remember to put those on, dears," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing to the coats. "It's cold out this evening, with all that dense fog."

**-o-**

"Harry. Harry, _psst_, Harry! Wake up!"

Harry groaned in response to the prodding of his ribs and rolled over, blinking, confused, at Ron. "What?" he moaned, groggy and only half-awake.

"Look out the window!" Ron hissed. "_Look_!"

Harry muttered something not fit for the ears of those under thirteen and sat up, reaching for his glasses on the end table, and put them on, turning towards the window.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

"Oh…my God," he whispered, "what has Bill _done_, Ron!"

**to be continued…**

_Translations, Explanations, etc:_

_(**1**): William: Gender: Masculine / Usage: English / Pronounced: WIL-ee-am, WIL-yam_

_From the Germanic name Wilhelm, which was composed of the elements _wil _"will, desire" and _helm _"helmet, protection". (Meaning of name taken from _www(**DOT**)behindthename(**DOT**)com

_(**2**): Okay, I know that the _adults _are oblivious to all the "children's" spying, to put it frankly (well, maybe not Dumbledore, but we'll save that for another day); however, I _highly _doubt that Bill and Charley, especially, are completely unaware of it. Also, they seem like mischievous types to me (just look at the _Goblet of Fire_, I mean!), so I think that Charley especially, with all that sibling rivalry going on in the Weasley household, would like to laugh at the expense of Bill being chewed out by Dumbledore._

_Notes From the Author:  
So what do you all think of me giving Bill a "full name"? I think it suits him, especially for this story. Please feel free to comment on it in your review; and, for that matter, feel free to comment on/criticize/whatever ANYTHING in the fic, okay? Okay. I expect nice reviews with CONTENT, this time. -grins-_

_As for what Bill (or should I say "William"?) is going to do…you'll have to wait until the _next _chapter to find that out, my dears. Oh, and next chapter will begin with Mokuba POV. Yayz!_

_On Review Replies:  
Signed reviews have already been replied to. Replies to anonymous reviews may be viewed on my LiveJournal at _www(**DOT**)live journal(**DOT**)com(**SLASH**)users(**SLASH**)nachzes_. Thank you for reading!_


	9. VIII: Holding Out for a Hero

_-Chapter title borrowed from the _Shrek 2 _soundtrack; this song partially gives away the so-called "mystery pairing" (you know, the one that isn't so MYSTERIOUS for some of you), but it's not referring to who some of you may think it does…. Tell me your thoughts in a review, eh? (Lyrics can be found at _www(**DOT**)azlyrics(**DOT**)com_; if not, check Google.)_

_-Chapter begins about half an hour BEFORE the last part of chapter seven_

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Eight: Holding Out for a Hero  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

_Another day of torture…another night in Hell!_ Mokuba thought angrily, kicking the sandstone wall with his sneaker. _Bastards…._ His thoughts trailed off, and he lay there in silence for a while before the sudden crash came, startling him out of his reverie. "What…?" he muttered, getting to his feet and peering through the bars of his prison. There was another crash, and the sound of feet pounding along the corridor, and Mokuba drew back slightly as the feet drew closer. He couldn't be sure, of course, but the absence of light told him that it couldn't be one of his captors…was it Seto? Excited, he stepped up to the bars again just as the figure rounded the corner and skidded to a stop in front of him; Mokuba glared furiously at it.

"_You_!" he hissed in English. "You're the one who got me and Seto into all this!" He spat at the feet of the stranger as he drew closer, and the black-haired child's hands tightened around the bars in front of him.

"I didn't," the man panted. He'd obviously been running. "We didn't, I swear—"

"_We_? Oh, that's right; well where's your partner in crime _now_, huh?"

"I told you, we had nothing to do with that! It was a Deatheater attack! We were there to _save_ you from it!"

"WELL YOU DIDN'T DO A VERY GOOD JOB OF IT THEN, DID YOU?" Mokuba yelled, fury and hurt battling for ground.

"_Shh_! If you yell they'll hear us!"

"Feh, as if you're not one of _them_," Mokuba snarled, but he lowered his voice all the same. "…Fine," he said. "Prove that you're not on their side." Added, in a whisper, "I _dare_ you." He smirked, thinking, _Seto would be proud._

"Would I be running without a light in the darkness if I was?" the other asked calmly.

Mokuba frowned.

"It still doesn't prove anything," he countered.

"Do I _look_ like one of 'them'?"

"…No," the younger Kaiba admitted, scrutinizing the figure carefully.

The other sighed in relief and tucked a wayward strand of red hair behind one ear. "Well, then, I gue—" Suddenly, a loud crash interrupted them, shortly followed by a loud curse and pounding footsteps. The figure straightened. "Someone's coming!" he hissed.

"Brilliant deduction, Sherlock? Did you think of that one yourself? Must've hurt your poor little brain! I bet it did, didn—" Mokuba broke off, startled, as the figure pulled out a long stick and brandished it at the bars.

"_Glaciées_ (**1**)!" he hissed, the bars quickly becoming covered in a thick layer of ice. "Step back," he warned, and Mokuba took several strides towards the wall behind him, watching, astounded, as the figure raised a leg and kicked at the hinges on the metal door in the centre of the bars, sending it crashing inwards. "Quickly!" he exclaimed, reaching into the cell and pulling Mokuba out. "We have to go before they get here!"

Once freed, however, Mokuba noticeably hesitated; the man had sprung him from his prison…but he still hadn't proven himself trustworthy. Not yet, anyways. "Promise me first," he demanded, indigo eyes flashing in an eerie imitation of his brother's. "Promise that you won't make the same mistake again."

Bill Weasley met his eyes levelly. "I promise," he said, then glanced towards the end of the tunnel at the flickering light that was steadily growing nearer. "Now run!"

**-o-**

Mokuba screamed. It felt as if he was being forced into a tube, his eardrums curving inwards until it felt they would burst; his eyes bulging from their sockets; his arms being forced to meld into his sides. And then, just as suddenly as the sensation had occurred, it stopped, and he collapsed onto dew-wet grass, the area around them lit by a flickering yellow streetlamp. Panting, the eleven-year-old pushed himself up to stand beside his rescuer. Glancing around the square, he frowned, puzzled, as Bill squatted down beside him and turned his head so that their eyes met. "Listen carefully," the redhead whispered, "the place we need to enter is shielded by magic; I have to knock you unconscious to get you in. I'm not going to do anything to you without your consent, and I'll revive you the second we get inside, but I need you to trust me."

Warily, Mokuba studied the other's face, and nodded jerkily. "Do what you need to do," he said.

Bill stood, and pulled out his wand again. "Close your eyes," he said, and Mokuba obeyed, feeling as if he had just dropped off the face of the earth, vertigo sending the blood whooshing through his ears. "_Stupefy_!" he heard Bill say, and suddenly, everything stopped….

He regained consciousness to find himself sitting on a countertop, propped up against the cupboard behind him, with what sounded like a dozen people shouting all at once. Eyes wide, he looked around the room (he quickly gathered he was in the kitchen), eyes stilling slightly over the more-familiar form of Remus Lupin, who seemed to be glaring at him. He flinched, and quickly looked away, staring wide-eyed when he spotted Yuugi, Malik and Ryö in the crowd. _What…?_ he thought, confused and a little afraid. Suddenly, feeling a hand on his shoulder, he started, relaxing when he turned and saw Bill standing beside him. "_Are you hungry_?" the redhead mouthed, and Mokuba nodded slightly. Bill smiled at him and patted his shoulder, then turned away to, presumably, prepare a snack.

"Bill, what were you _thinking_!" Mokuba heard Lupin yell incredulously, and the rest of the room fell silent as they waited for Bill's reply.

"I was thinking…" Bill said slowly, "that Mokuba…must…be rather hungry," he finished, turning back and presenting the boy in question with a mug of hot cocoa and some heavily-buttered toast with cheese, which the black-haired child accepted with a word of thanks.

Lupin spluttered incomprehensibly at this, and another man spoke up. _Bill's father?_ Mokuba thought as he eyed the man over his make-shift sandwich. They had the same red hair.

"You're just lucky your mother's not home," the man said, and Bill rolled his eyes, waving the words aside like pesky insects.

"Pish posh," he said dismissively. "You don't really think I would be so foolish as to come back when she was here, do you?"

"You…_planned_ this?" Lupin asked weakly, apparently having got his voice back. "You _planned_ sneaking out in the middle of the night, _stealing_ Snape's notes on You-Know-Who's whereabouts, and _kidnapping our leverage_!"

At this Mokuba frowned slightly as he gulped steaming hot chocolate. _I'm not leverage…_ he thought angrily as the room erupted into furious chatter again. He paused. Narrowed his eyes in suspicion. _Unless they're trying to hold something over Nii-sama…but then why would they rescue me?_ He shook his head in confusion, then straightened up; there was only one way to settle this.

"Where's my brother?" he asked, and everyone stilled again. Silence fell over the room like a cloak, and Mokuba felt a flicker of fear at the look in everyone's eyes. "_Yuugi_," he said, feeling hysteria creeping up the base of his spine as he turned to look at familiar faces, "_doko de Nii-sama ka_?" He could feel tears gathering behind his eyes and four weeks of stifled screams building up at the back of his throat when his question was met with silence. "_Yuugi_," he said, more desperately, "_doko de Nii-sama ka_?" _Oh God, where's my brother_," he thought, his hands beginning to shake, the mug and plate clenched in their grasp beginning to rattle against each other. "_Doko de Nii-sama ka_!" he asked again, desperately, eyes raking the scene for any sign of Seto, any sign at all….

"Mokuba," he heard Bill say quietly, the elder gently removing the dishes from his hands and placing them in the sink, "calm down." There were hands rubbing at his back, and a soft voice whispering in his ear, but oh God they weren't Seto's, and it wasn't Seto's voice, and _where was his brother_! A sob hitched and caught in his throat, and he hunched over, burying his face in his knees as Bill pulled him closer, trying to shelter him from the horrible truth. "Mokuba," the other said again, and the boy wailed, because he couldn't hold it back anymore; _I tried to be strong, Seto, I really did, and where are you!_, but Seto was gone and no one would say it aloud….

"Mokuba." And it was Yuugi's voice now, saying his name, only it was deeper and more powerful—the Other Yuugi. "Your brother's in a coma."

"_WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM_!" Mokuba screamed, fighting to get free from the arms wrapped around his waist. "_WHAT DID YOU DO_!"

"Mokuba, nobody did anything, we swear!" Ryö this time, and Mokuba went lax again at the admission; felt hysterical sobs hitching in his throat as he tried to stop them, but he couldn't….

"Kaiba…he tried…Mokuba, your brother tried to kill himself," said another boy with black hair like his own. "He thought that you were dead."

Vertigo again, only this time his eyes were wide open, locked with emerald green, and he was falling…falling…wind rushing through his ears and making his nose sting, and all he could say was "it's you" and then everything went black.

**° ¥ ° **

"It's you…" Mokuba said in a whisper, and immediately fainted. Taken aback, Harry watched with a detached air as the silence dissolved into shouts and accusations once more, fingers pointing and faces reddening as the noise level rapidly escalated.

_Where could he have seen me before…?_ Harry thought. _The only place I've seen him was…oh, my gosh! The dream!_ Shocked, Harry unconsciously took a step back. "How…?" he said out loud, choking on his own words.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright?" Hermione exclaimed, steadying him as he almost fell into her, and he shook his head, alert once more.

"Fine," he mumbled to her. "I'm fine. It's just—" He screamed. Oh, God it hurt…his scar was burning and it hurt so bad…. He collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, clutching at his forehead.

"Harry! _HARRY_!"

Blackness.

**to be continued…**

_Translations, etc:  
(**1**) Very, _very _rough French (I could do better, but I was bored). _Glaciées _would mean something along the lines of _frozen _or, perhaps,_ icy _(referring to the iron bars)._

_Notes From the Author:_

_Chapter title borrowed from the _Shrek 2 _soundtrack; this song partially gives away the so-called "mystery pairing" (you know, the one that isn't so MYSTERIOUS for some of you), but it's not referring to who some of you may think it does…. Tell me your thoughts in a review, eh? (Lyrics can be found at _www(**DOT**)azlyrics(**DOT**)com_; if not, check Google.) And yeah, I admit, it might be really hard to see it…but whoever it is isn't in the chapter!_

_On Review Replies:_

_Signed reviews have already been replied to. Replies to anonymous reviews may be viewed on my LiveJournal at _www(**DOT**)livejournal(**DOT**)com(**SLASH**)users(**SLASH**)nachzes_. Thank you for reading!_


	10. IX: The Shape of My Heart

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Nine: The Shape of My Heart  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

— **_Dreamscape— _**

_**Harry was in the room lined with bookshelves again; it looked as if it has recently been subjugated to a ransacking. The tarnished candelabras has been wrenched from their brackets on the wall, and hardened wax and burn marks— dark against the wood of several overturned shelves— were evidence of a small fire. Books and scrolls alike lay in awkward positions across the room, their spines broken, and their yellowing pages, torn and cracked, were scattered about like so many leaves in Fall. A fire hissed and roared in the hearth, devouring flames blood red against the black iron spikes of the grate. There were two men n the room, one cowering on the floor, whimpering and pleading, the other standing and towering over him, red eyes gleaming in the firelight, skin white against his black hair and cloak, and an expression of pure rage on his deformed face. Lord Voldemort. **_

_**The Dark Lord's thin lips parted in a hiss, and he spoke to the whimpering man before him, voice cold. "You were supposed to be guarding the boy, were you not, Fujimaki?"**_

"**_Yes, my Lord," the man gasped, keeping his forehead pressed to the sandstone floor. "But— "_**

"**_And yet he got away…" Voldemort continued silkily, as if the man had not spoken. "Now, why do you think that is?"_**

"**_My Lord— I do not know how— but somebody got into the dungeons— without alerting any of the guards— I did not realize— " _**

"**_Silence. I have heard enough of your mindless babbling; _why _were you not able to _stop _this man?"_**

"**_My Lord," Fujimaki squeaked, "I did not know, I swear it on my life— "_**

"**Crucio_!" _**

_**The Deatheater screamed, writhing on the floor in pain, and Harry felt his scar, which had been steadily throbbing as Voldemort's rage grew, burn. His knees buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor, clutching at his forehead, teeth gritted. Suddenly, Fujimaki's screams died off, and he lay sprawled, prostrate, on the floor at Voldemort's feet, gasping and panting for breath.**_

"**_Please, my Lord," he began, quivering in fear, but got no further._**

"**_I have no use in my ranks for those who cannot perform the menial task given to them, such as guarding an eleven-year-old boy!" Voldemort spat, raising his wand, and Harry felt pain flare to life in his scar once more. "_Avada— "**

"**_My Lord?" The voice was female, and falsely calm; it spoke of a hidden excitement just beneath the surface, and Harry felt a thrill of dread._**

_**Voldemort, cut off, spun and fixed a glare upon the woman who had entered the room without asking. "What is it, Bella?" he snapped, the gold broach on his cloak glowing eerily.**_

_**Bellatrix spoke again, in that same voice flooded with barely-concealed excitement. "My Lord, we have news from Lucius," she said breathlessly. "It seems that they have translated the tablet!"**_

_**A hush fell over the room, and Harry's scar burned, a faint, fluttery feeling around his midsection making his stomach clench in discomfort.**_

"**_Very well," Voldemort said after a while, red eyes gleaming with excitement. "Fujimaki, I shall not kill you now— "_**

"**_Oh thank you, my Lord, thank you! I will do my utmost to— "_**

"**Silence_!" Voldemort hissed, and the Deatheater fell silent. The Dark Lord continued. "You will have one last chance to prove your worth," he said. "I have another task for you now…."_**

_**But the dream was fading, no matter how Harry tried to hang onto it, to hear what the Dark Lord's plan was. The voices were fading, and the colours were dissolving into shades of grey and black, and blurring together, so that when he blinked reflexively to clear his vision…the room was gone. Instead, he found himself standing in a much larger room, dimly lit and rectangular…he looked down into the sunken pit below, and felt his stomach drop.**_

_**The archway….**_

_**Its tattered black veil still fluttered in a non-existent breeze, an immortal touch by the people who had gone through it years ago, and Sirius…. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, and swallowed, beginning to walk down the steps slowly, as if in a trance. He did not feel the smooth, well-worn stone against his feet like he felt the gritty sandstone floor in Voldemort's hideout, but instead seemed to float down the stairs, so that before he knew it, he was standing in front of the stone archway, and reaching towards the fluttering veil. He could swear he could hear Sirius murmuring to him…laughing as though he was just out of sight…just out of reach.**_

_**Harry flung the veil aside, and stepped through the archway, expecting to meet his godfather, to confront him….**_

_**But there he found only a chill, haunting blackness.**_

— **_End Dreamscape— _**

Harry awoke hours later to find himself placed in his own bed in the bedroom that he and Ron shared, listening to the incessant chirping of the birds outside his window. He glanced at Ron's bed to see that the other was still asleep, snoring quietly; rolling over, Harry blinked at seeing Phineas Nigellus sitting in his portrait, apparently watching over him. Seeing that Harry was awake, the ex-Headmaster sniffed disapprovingly and stood. "I suppose," he said, "that now that you are awake, and, apparently, unharmed, I am allowed to go?"

Harry blinked. "I suppose," he said slowly, and Phineas sniffed haughtily again and walked out of his portrait, Harry watching him go. Then, suddenly, the teen frowned, shaking his head and sitting up in his bed. "Mister— err— Professor Nigellus," he called, hoping that the other could still hear him over at Hogwarts.

"What is it?" Phineas' nasally voice snapped from his empty portrait.

"…What happened to me?" Harry asked. "Sir," he tacked on hastily. "That is, the last thing I remember is…the kitchen, and…Mokuba…" he trailed off into silence, and there was a long pause before Phineas suddenly appeared in his portrait, casually inspecting his nails as though he wasn't interested. "Phinea— Professor Nigellus?" Harry asked hesitantly, and Phineas heaved a sigh.

"Oh, alright," he said, long-suffering. "I suppose I could tell you…" he gave his fingernails one last cursory glance before he looked at Harry. "You collapsed in the dining room shortly after the younger Kaiba fainted, screaming and clutching at your forehead." He paused in his monotonous recital of Harry's collapse to clear his throat, peering once again at his fingernails, as if waiting for the other to add something. When he didn't, the old Black glanced up at Harry, who was looking expectantly at him, and heaved a great sigh, then continued. "After a good half hour of trying to calm you down, you went limp. It looked like you were asleep, apparently, so they tried to wake you up; when they were unsuccessful, they called Dumbledore, who told them to just let you rest, and then he sent me to 'watch over you'. Now, are there any more of your inane questions?" he asked snidely, and Harry shook his head.

"No. Thank you, Professor," he said.

Phineas sniffed, and walked out of the portrait. There was a pause, and then the Slytherin's disembodied voice sounded again. "I suppose," Phineas said, "that, for a Gryffindor, you are a suitable enough predecessor for my great-great-grandson to have chosen for his inheritance."

The empty portrait fell silent again, and Harry gaped soundlessly at it for several moments before he recovered enough of his wits to close his mouth. Rising from his bed, he located his shoes and socks on the floor near the foot of the bed and slipped them on, then exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him on instinct, though he knew that Ron slept like a rock, and that nothing short of the next giant-wizard war would have roused him.

Downstairs, Harry wasn't surprised to see several members of the Order sitting around the kitchen table and talking in hushed voices. They all looked up when he walked in, and Mrs. Weasley jumped up from her chair and hurried over to him, pulling him into a constricting embrace. "Harry, dear!" she exclaimed, holding him out once more at arms' length and scrutinizing him as though examining his pallor. "You had us so worried with that turn you took last night!" she said. "Thank goodness we knew where Dumbledore was to contact him!" She beamed, apparently finding Harry's complexion to her liking, and released him. "What would you like for breakfast, dear?" she asked. "Toast? Kippers? Bacon and eggs?" She bustled off to the kitchen and began clanging pots and pans together as she rifled through the cupboards.

"Toast, please," Harry said, pulling out a chair to sit at, then pausing as his stomach gave a loud rumble. "And some eggs and bacon is you have them, I suppose."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, pulling out her wand and flicking it at several eggs on the counter, which immediately leapt up and began breaking themselves over the frying pan on the stove. "Eggs, Lupin?" she asked. "Mad-Eye? Tonks? Oh, and how would you like yours done, Harry?" she added as a chorus of yeses rang out from the table.

"Oh, scrambled is fine," Harry said, and Mrs. Weasley nodded, milk flowing from the tip of her wand into the pan full of eggs as bacon layered itself into another. The sounds and smells of breakfast cooking soon filled the room, and Harry turned to face Lupin. "So where's Bill?" he asked, and Lupin's meditative expression soured slightly.

"He's gone to Saint Mungo's," Tonks said, giving Lupin a strange look. The werewolf frowned deeper and took a sip of coffee, and Tonks sighed an continued. "It was his turn to go look after Seto. He took Mokuba with him."

"Why?" Harry asked, murmuring his thanks as Mrs. Weasley set a plate piled with bacon, eggs, toast and fried tomatoes in front of him.

"Bill has a theory that Seto will wake up if Mokuba talks to him. Apparently, muggles can her you if you talk to them while they're in a…what was it? Oka?" Lupin said.

"Coma," Harry replied.

"Right. That." Lupin cleared his throat and took another sup of coffee as Mrs. Weasley set a plate in front of him with a slightly-louder-than-usual clatter, her face pinched. Harry remembered what Bill had said the other night, and winced, digging into his breakfast as Lupin went on. "Anyways, he would have taken the boy regardless." He shook his head and scooped up a mouthful of eggs. "You can't keep those two apart."

"But— " Harry began, intending to point out that Voldemort had, in fact, done so, before remembering why Seto was in St. Mungo's. "Oh," he said instead, rather lamely.

Lupin nodded.

Moody, who was currently inspecting the plate of food in front of him, growled, "I don't trust the boy. Old beyond his years."

Mrs. Weasley gave the ex-Auror a reproving look and set a plate before Tonks, pulling out a chair and placing her own before her. "Now Alastor," she said, "he's only fifteen— "

"He's as cold as Snape was," Moody bit off. His unspoken words, _And we all know what Snape turned out to be_, hung in the awkward silence. "I don't like him."

"His parents— "

"I don't see Potter getting uppity just because he's an orphan," Moody replied, cutting Mrs. Weasley off, and Harry nearly choked on a mouthful of eggs.

"What?" he coughed. "Kaiba's an orphan?"

"Don't see any Mr. or Mrs. Kaibas inquiring about the whereabouts of their sons, do you?" Moody growled, and Harry shook his head, still surprised.

_Kaiba and I have something in common?_ he thought, _What's next?_

**° ¥ ° **

"_Nii-sama_!" Mokuba cried, rushing to his elder brother's bedside, an expression of mixed fear and relief on his face. Bill watched him as the boy grasped Seto's hand in his, indigo eyes beading with tears. "_Nii-sama, mezame-saseru, onegai_ (**1**)!" he cried, and Bill walked forward, closing the door behind himself and taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, watching as Mokuba continued to speak in Japanese to his brother, voice trembling as he did so. "_Onegai, Nii-sama_…" Mokuba began, his voice small and choked as though he were fighting off tears, and Bill touched his arm lightly, hearing the boy gasp in response; feeling his flinch away, draw back, from his touch, and Bill felt a surge of anger towards the Deatheaters and their leader. How could they stand to torture an innocent eleven-year-old boy…?

_Evil,_ he thought, turning his attention back to Mokuba as the boy remained stiff. "Mokuba," Bill said quietly, "I'm not going to hurt you." The eleven-year-old exhaled loudly, and drew breath in quickly as though trying to mask the action, his shoulders beginning to shake minutely as he began to sob. "Mokuba?" Bill asked, standing and laying his hands on those jerking shoulders.

"I want him to wake up!" Mokuba cried, gulping back sobs and wiping away his tears with the ratty cuff of his dirty shirt. "_Onegai, Nii-sama, mezame-saseru_!" he said again, "_Mezame-saseru_…."

Bill reached down and gently pried Mokuba's fingers loose from around his brother's limp hand, the boy whimpering and attempting to clutch tighter as he did so.

"No," Mokuba whispered, and Bill shushed him. "No, don't." He made a sound a like a stifled sob. "Don't," he repeated weakly, biting his lip when it trembled. Bill noticed this.

"Mokuba…" he said, "it's okay to cry."

It was as if his words had triggered the breaking of a dam, and, suddenly, he was holding a sobbing Mokuba. "Shh, Mokuba, it's okay," Bill murmured, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back and crooning. "It's alright," he said. "Relax…."

Mokuba's shoulders heaved in one last sob, and he wept silently into Bill's shoulder, hiccoughing on occasion. "I want him to wake up," Mokuba gasped as he looked up, indigo eyes gleaming with tears, face shiny with their tracks. "I just want him to wake up." The boy turned to his brother's unconscious form and took his hand again as Bill sat down, the younger Kaiba resting in his lap. "Please, Seto," Mokuba whispered, squeezing tight, "_please_ wake up!" he sniffled a little, and wiped his face again with his sleeve. "Please…."

For a few moments there was silence. Then, suddenly, Mokuba gasped, and Bill jumped to attention. "What is it?" he asked. "What's happ— "

"His eye!" Mokuba exclaimed, and Bill started, and began scrutinizing Seto's face. "It just moved! See— there! His eyelid flickered a bit." Bill watched as Mokuba's hand tightened on his brother's, then slackened slightly, as though Mokuba was waiting for his brother to squeeze back. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he did. The pale fingers on the bed curled a little, one by one, and then loosened again. "Come on, Seto," Mokuba murmured, squeezing back firmly and waiting. "Please wake up…." Seto's jaw twitched, his eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers curled tighter this time, and held. "That's it, Seto," Mokuba said, tightening his grip again. "Wake up." His face broke into a grin when Seto squeezed back, his eyelids flickering again. The brunet's lips parted slightly, a breath escaping him along with a quiet moan, his head turning slightly to one side, eyelids fluttering. "Come on, _Nii-sama_," Mokuba encouraged, and that angular jaw twitched. "_Mezame-saseru, Nii-sama_. Wake up, please."

"Mokuba…." Seto's head thrashed slightly, his eyelids twitching as his eyes rolled around behind them in their sockets.

"That's right, Seto; it's me."

"Moku…" the other mumbled, lips moving silently in completion of the name, and his hand tightened around his brother's. "Mokuba…."

"Wake up, _Nii-sama_."

"Nng…."

This time, Bill caught a glimpse of blue as Seto's eyelids fluttered open briefly, then shut again.

"Mokuba…."

"I'm right here, _Nii-sama_. Right here. You just need to wake up."

"Mokuba…."

"I'm here."

"Moku…" Seto drew in breath shakily, the air rattling past the phlegm in his throat, and he coughed, his thin body jerking spastically on the bed. "Mokuba."

"Wake up, Seto. Just wake up."

The brunet tossed his head restlessly again, and his eyelids fluttered open further, slitting again as the light hit them. "Moku…."

"Here, _Nii-sama_. I'm over here," Mokuba said, and Bill's heart rose as Seto responded to the other's voice, his head slowly turning to face Mokuba, his eyes slitted but open. They opened wider, though, when Mokuba reached out to touch his brother's face, and Seto shuddered minutely, eyes slowly travelling up Mokuba's body towards his face.

"Mokuba…?" Seto mumbled, eyelids drooping drowsily, "_Nani_ (**2**)…?" His eyes opened wider and he tried to sit up, wincing at he was forced to put weight on his bandaged wrists, when Mokuba's eyes flooded with tears again. "_Mokuba, suru nai naku_ (**3**)," he said, reaching out a hand, then freezing as he focused on Bill. Witching back to perfect un-accented English with apparent ease, he snapped, "What are you doing here?" Bill felt himself flush under the younger's furious glare, and couldn't help feeling grateful when Mokuba said something in rapid Japanese that momentarily drew Seto's attention away from the redhead. Occasionally, Seto would interrupt his brother with a curt word, which then would send Mokuba off on a new tangent, so that it was nearly half and hour before Seto turned back to Bill, face carefully blank. "Mokuba tells me that you were an idiotic vigilante and decided to single-handedly rescue him from his captors." Cautiously, Bill nodded, unsure whether Seto was thanking him or insulting him. There was a brief, tense pause, and then Seto sighed, rolling his eyes. "I suppose I should thank you," he said, "so…thank you."

Bill grinned, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder, earrings jangling. "You're welcome, then," he said, guessing that Mokuba had deliberately left some parts of his tale out when he recounted it to the brunet by the calm way in which Seto was acting. "Where did you learn English?" he asked after a moment's more silence, and Seto's blue eyes flashed as though in challenge.

"My father," he said shortly, and left it as that. Bill raised an eyebrow, but retrained from comment, instead remaining tacit until Seto spoke again, his words making the redhead immediately regret his silence. "So," Seto began, tone light but dangerous; Mokuba's head snapped up, the eleven-year-old suddenly alert, "why wasn't I told where Mokuba was?"

Choosing his words carefully, Bill replied, "That rest of the Order didn't feel it a worthwhile risk to stage a rescue mission at the time; you weren't told because they thought you might attempt to take on You-Know-Who by yourself— "

"Who is this 'You-Know-Who'?" Seto mimicked snidely, an undercurrent of impatience, frustration, and anger lacing his tone.

"He's…his name in Lord Voldemort," Bill said in a rush. "Or, at least that's what he calls himself. Everyone else in the wizarding world fears him too much to utter his name, so people call him 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'." Seto scoffed at this, apparently disgusted, and Bill went on. "He— Voldemort— first came to power about thirty years ago. For sixteen years, he blackmailed, murdered, and cursed people until they were under his power. He convinced the giants and the Dementors— they guard the wizard prison, Azkaban, and have the power to steal you soul; they feed off of happiness— to join him. It seemed that he'd never fall, but then, one say, about fourteen years ago, he did.

"He'd tried to kill a baby boy named Harry Potter; however, he couldn't do it. But then…a little more than a year ago…he came back. He's been quietly gathering followers all year. They're called Deatheaters; they're the ones who kidnapped your brother," Bill said. He took a deep breath, and went on. "But we at the Order (an organization created to oppose Voldemort) have reason to believe that their real target was you. That's why we couldn't risk telling you who had Mokuba, in case you tried to rescue him, and ended up as Voldemort's captive. However," Bill said, "_I_ saw no reason to allow Voldemort to continue to torture Mokuba— because, make no mistake, that's what was happening," the redhead added when Seto's eyes flashed and a simmering glare masked his delicate features.

"So," Bill continued, "I stole the Order's notes on Voldemort's current hideout, snuck out, and performed an idiotic, life-threatening, vigilante act, and set out on a rescue mission." He brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and met Seto's burning sapphire eyes evenly. "I'm not saying that the Order's thought process was wrong," he said. "But I felt that past…lack of action, I guess, spoke against their theories."

"A man does not wear his heart on his sleeve for all to see," Seto challenged, ignoring Mokuba's attempts to hush him.

Bill shrugged. "Perhaps not," he commented, "but some might also say I'm not a real man." He flashed a challenging grin back at Seto's calculating expression, and tossed his head, his earrings chiming against one another and his red hair swimming. Seto did nothing but raise an eyebrow and make a cryptic noise, perhaps in affirmation. In response, Bill let his gaze linger a little longer on the other's before he nudged Mokuba off his lap and stood, stretching.

"I suppose I should go and tell the Healers that you're awake," he said, walking towards the doorway and glancing over his shoulder to catch Seto's silent nod of affirmation as he exited the room.

The redhead allowed the door to fall shut behind him before he let out a whoop and took off down the hall towards the Healers' station, grinning.

"He's awake!" he blurted upon arrival that the station, the grin still there. "He woke up!" A Healer left to go check on Seto, and Bill beamed, thinking of the looks on the faces of those in Grimmauld Place when they found out that he had been right all along.

The burst of pride covered up the familiar yet dreaded feeling in his chest, and he relaxed further.

After all, everything had gone as planned. And the tiny bug in the system could be worked out, he reasoned. No one had to know what he was feeling towards a certain blue-eyed brunet.

His secret was safe with him.

**° ¥ ° **

It was a week later when Seto was released from St. Mungo's, skin paler than usual, and refusing to lean on anyone who dared to offer him aid. The last week had been…strenuous, even he would admit, though perhaps not out loud. With the constant stress of being under scrutiny of the Healers, as they called themselves, whenever they came to attempt to force him to drink goblets full of what they told him was "a mixture of blood-replenishing potion, water, an elixir for re-hydration, and a potion to help him gain weight" because, apparently, he was "severely underweight". And then there were Mokuba and Bill, who were continually pestering him to give in to the prodding invasions of the Healers. Of course, Seto was glad just to hear Mokuba say _anything_, though he would never voice this opinion.

"_Nii-sama_," said imp whined, tugging at the sleeve of Seto's shirt (it was really Bill's shirt, because the redhead was closest to him in height and size, though the clothes still hung significantly on him), "_Nii-sama, you aren't healed enough yet to walk on your own_!" he cried in Japanese.

Seto waved him away slightly, and continued doggedly to walk— on his own— ahead. Bill, in the lead, turned around and frowned at him, as though concerned, and took a step towards him; Seto glared back.

"Don't you dare, Weasley," he growled, ignoring the twinge of reluctance he felt when Bill rolled his emerald eyes and turned back around.

They continued on for another block or so, stopping when they reached a grassy patch underneath a street sign, an arrow pointing into a cul-de-sac before them and proclaiming _Grimmauld Place_ to the world. "We're here," Bill declared, pulling a scrap of parchment from his pocket and handing it to Seto and Mokuba. Seto took it, read it, and looked up at Bill with a raised eyebrow. Bill looked back at him, and Seto wordlessly handed the parchment to Mokuba, his fingers brushing those of the other as he did so. Still solid; still there. He released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as Mokuba handed the paper back to Bill, who immediately incinerated it with his wand. Seto twitched.

_Magic,_ he thought bitterly, his lip curling slightly.

"Now concentrate on what you just read," Bill instructed.

"But why— " began Mokuba.

Shaking his head, Bill replied, "Not here. Do what I said. You'll see."

Lip curling further in response to being patronized, though indirectly, Seto forced himself to think of what the note had said. _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,_ he repeated in his head. _The Headquarters— _

Mokuba gasped, and blue eyes snapped open, focusing on the younger brother instantly. "Seto," Mokuba breathed, pointing, "_look_."

He did.

Stunned, Seto stared as the house formed, growing taller and wider and pushing numbers eleven and thirteen out of its way. Yet, no one seemed to notice. Turning to Bill to demand to know what was happening, he felt his breath instead catch in his throat when he saw how the other was looking at him, emerald gaze intense and filled with…something. Quickly, Bill shook his head an looked away, leaving Seto confused and feeling as though he had just undergone a rush of vertigo.

"Right, well," Bill said, "we'll just…yeah." He coughed, and Seto blinked, then looked away, instead occupying his time by brushing Mokuba's unruly hair back in a gesture that did not go unnoticed by either of them as they stepped up to the door and Bill knocked, the sound quickly followed by footsteps on the inside. The door swung open and Mrs. Weasley waved the threesome inside, shutting the door behind them, and Seto watched as the re-did the dozen locks. Finally she straightened and bustled over to them, speaking in a hushed whisper as she gestured them towards the sitting room, "This way, dears, and please be careful not to wake anything up."

Seto glanced around distastefully as the house's décor, noting the omnipresence of multiple decorative serpents with scorn. He felt something brush past his arm, and glanced down to see Mokuba standing next to him, black hair just barely touching the elder's arm as he turned. Almost imperceptibly, Seto relaxed, though he hadn't even realized that he was tense.

Then Mrs. Weasley threw open the drawing room door, and a great yell of "SURPRISE!" rift the air as the residents of Grimmauld Place leapt up from their respective hiding places behind the couches. Right on cue, the painting in the hallways began shrieking curses and laments, and Seto smirked as everyone else winced, and Mrs. Weasley ran off to close the painting's hangings.

Left alone with the rest of the wizards and witches, Seto swept them all with a piercing glare, pleased to see that several of them drew back from its force. "I don't _like_ surprises," he drawled, ignoring the sensation that he was falling; _dizziness_, he thought. _It'll pass._ Distracted momentarily by the desire to check his surroundings for Mokuba, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing down and feeling the now-familiar wave of relief wash over him. Hearing the silence stretch on )which must have been awkward for the rest of them), Seto grunted. "Yuugi," he barked, "aren't you going to say hello to Mokuba?"

Looking slightly relieved, Yuugi came forward and bowed slightly to Mokuba, who returned the favour, and then struck up a conversation in Japanese. The words _English, Mokuba_ were on the tip of his tongue, but Seto refrained from comment. It was supposed to be a party, after all, and if Seto himself couldn't enjoy it, perhaps Mokuba could.

Shaking his head slightly, Seto looked longingly up the stairs, but remained stoic beside Mokuba. Sensing the gaze of somebody else on him, Seto turned, meeting the emerald eyes of Bill Weasley evenly until the other had looked away. Bored already, Seto almost welcomed it when Mrs. Weasley called everyone to dinner, though it would mean having people, namely Mokuba, he Weasley matron, and Bill, try to force-feed him; claiming, as they always did, that he was "far too thin". Of course, to his great chagrin, Seto was seated between his brother and Malik, who was now grinning at him deviously, blond hair done up in a messy braid. Grimacing, Seto attempted to ignore the Egyptian (and the pair of green eyes scrutinizing him from across the table as he served himself a tiny portion of stew). Eyeing his meagre dinner with distaste, Seto picked up his fork and speared a piece of meat with dainty ease, noting with some snide pleasure that Yuugi was having difficulty with the European cutlery. As he raised the meat to his mouth, Seto let his mind drift slightly and tuned it to what Mokuba was saying.

"…studied dragons in Romania?" Mokuba asked, and Seto's fork stopped halfway to his mouth before he recovered enough presence of mind to move it again.

"That's right," the man on Mokuba's right said through a mouthful of food. He had red hair, Seto noted as he glanced over towards them. Bill's brother, maybe? "Once this summer's over I'm going to New Zealand and China to study breeds like the Opal Eye and the Fireball for a year, and then I'm going to spend a couple years backpacking across Europe with some friends to study the European dragons."

"So what kinds of dragons have you dealt with so far?" Mokuba asked.

"Oh, well in Romania they have a kind of park where beginning dragon handlers can learn about all the different types of dragons and how to treat basic diseases such as scale rot and stuff. I finished my training course and got my license to teach my first year, and I've been instructing new handlers for the last two years." He paused, and went on. "his year I decided it's about time I found a speciality, so I'm spending the next few years travelling to try and get a feel for a particular breed."

"I heard that the mothers are the ones with their own territory, not the males."

"Yes. The females each have their own terrain, but the males all live in one group except for when they leave to go find a mate; once two dragons have mated, they'll go stake out a territory together, or perhaps both move into the female's pre-existing area. Dragons mate for life; they go through a complicated ritual in choosing their mate, and they only have one month to find one and complete the ritual, so it can get pretty hot with all the competition."

"Seto, dear, aren't you going to eat anymore?" Mrs. Weasley asked, and Seto looked down, realising that he had cleared his entire plate.

"No," he said, "I'm not hungry. And it's Kaiba."

"You really should eat more," Mrs. Weasley insisted, and Seto realised with dismay that everyone had now focused their collective attention on him.

"_Nii-sama_," Mokuba began, but Seto cut him off.

"I'm _fine_, Mokuba," Seto said, his tone flashing _End of Conversation_ in pink neon lights. Bill didn't get the hint.

"Seto, you need to eat; you just got back from a week in the hospital!" the redhead exclaimed, and Seto shoved back his chair furiously, standing up.

"I've spent more that a week in the hospital and not had to be babied when I got back, Weasley!" Seto snarled, knuckles white on the table. "I AM NOT A CHILD!" He kicked his chair out of the way and stormed out of the room, feeling the stares of the others on his back as he slammed the boor behind him, taking the stairs four at a time to reach his room.

Breathing hard from anger, Seto leaned up against the wall in the room he and Mokuba were to be sharing, closing his yes and pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. He was hungry now, but he'd learned how to go without food for longer a long time ago. No, hunger shouldn't had made him snap…he's have to find the cause of that, and either get rid of it, or train himself to deal with it. That in mind, he dropped his hand to his side and opened his eyes, only to see Bill Weasley standing in the doorway with that strange, intense look on his face. Immediately, Seto forced him impassive mask back on, and summoned a weak glare.

"What?" he snapped.

Bill just continued to look at him, and Seto shirted uncomfortably, looking away; he didn't know why, but for some reason Bill's gaze— and his silence— made Seto unnerved. Finally, Bill spoke, voice low and rough, "Why do you make the assumption that everyone's trying to annoy you?" He paused, and swallowed. Seto, frozen in place, watched as the redhead stepped closer, until he was standing right in front of him, emerald eyes locked with sapphire. "Why do you think nobody _cares_?"

The question was right there, spoken in a whisper, but Seto never got a chance to answer it, because all of a sudden Bill's lips were on his, and Bill's tongue was in his mouth, and he meant to shove the redhead away (he really did), but instead his hands wove themselves into the hair at the base of the other's neck, his blue eyes drifting shut.

As far, he had been holding his breath in shock, but his lungs were burning, and so he pulled in air on instinct, oxygen flooding his paralyzed brain and jump-starting his though process. Suddenly aware, Seto's eyes shot open, and he placed his palms on Bill's chest and roughly shoved him away, gasping and collapsing to unsteady knees, putting a shaky hand to his face.

"Seto?" he heard, and flinched instinctively as he felt Bill lay a hand on his shoulder. "Are you— "

"I'm fine," Seto rasped, choking back the sobs that threatened to make themselves known. _Oh God, the memories,_ he thought, trembling, the floor wavering through the unwanted tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Just…go," he said through gritted teeth. _Please go!_ he thought desperately, _I can't keep this back much longer!_

But Bill refused to leave, instead crouching beside him and placing an hand on his back again. "Seto," he said, "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I just…." He cleared his throat, and Seto felt his arms shaking, threatening to give out.

"Why did you do it?" he asked, watching the carpet swim before him, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard the other draw in breath.

"Because…" Bill said slowly, as if considering each word before letting it clear his lips, "because…I care about you." He breathed deeply before continuing, as though steadying himself. "I want to _be_ with you, Seto; I…haven't felt this way since my fiancée was still alive. I did it because…I think I'm in love with you."

Stunned, Seto knelt there, frozen, staring unseeing at the carpet.

"Seto?" Bill asked, and the brunet snapped back to reality.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have— "

"_What_ did you _say_?"

Bill swallowed, and Seto closed his eyes tightly again, turning away. _He's not going to say it,_ he thought. _He won't._

"…I love you," Bill whispered, and Seto whipped around, blue eyes shimmering with the tears he refused to shed.

"Say it again."

Emerald eyes met his. "I love you."

Seto closed his eyes shakily. "Say it again."

"I love you." Bill's fingers touched his chin lightly, tilting his head upwards ever-so-slightly, and Seto suppressed a shiver, keeping his eyes closed.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

This time, the words were breathed brazenly over his lips, and he trembled as Bill's lips met his again in a chaste kiss before pulling away. Seto opened his eyes, meeting Bill's, and the redhead spoke again.

"I love you."

And as Seto closed his eyes and the other leaned in to kiss him again, he could feel himself falling….

**-o-**

It was later that night when Seto reappeared downstairs, having endured both Mokuba's and Bill's needling to "be sociable" for as long as he could. He managed to further avoid human contact by standing with his arms crossed over his chest in a corner and glaring at anybody who came near him for several minutes until Malik sauntered over to him, grinning. Seto glared at him, but the blond merely waved it aside and stepped closer. "Dumbledore wants to talk with us, Kaiba," he said. Seto's yes narrowed.

"Who?" he asked briskly, and Malik arched a pale eyebrow.

"Kaiba, Kaiba, Kaiba," he mocked, "no reason to get nasty. I'm just the messenger boy." He paused to flick an imaginary speck of dirt off his shoulder, and Seto's eyes narrowed further. "As I was _saying_," Malik went on, "the Headmaster of this school we're supposed to go to, and the leader of the Order, would like to speak with us." He stopped. "Oh, and bring shrimpy-Kaiba, too."

Seto's eyes flashed. "Mokuba is almost taller than Yuugi," he growled. Malik shrugged, apparently not caring, and wandered off. Seto rolled his eyes. "_Where_ are we meeting Dumbledore, Ishtal?"

Malik turned, grinning. "Knew you'd come around," he commented. "We're meeting in the study," he said, "upstairs." The blond raised two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. "Ta at, Kaiba," he said cheerfully, and left, Seto glaring after him.

Still frowning, Seto turned and began to scan the crowd for a glimpse of Mokuba's tell-tale mane of unruly jet black hair; spotting it, he headed over to his brother, who was talking yet again with the stocky redhead that Seto thought must be related to Bill. "Mokuba," Seto called, and the eleven-year-old looked around.

"_Nani_?" he asked.

"_What_, Mokuba, not _nani_." Seto paused. "Apparently, we're supposed to meet with the person behind this atrocity."

"Alright," Mokuba said slowly, and waved to his red-haired companion. "Bye, Charlie."

The redhead— Charlie— nodded and disappeared into the crowd, and Seto grunted, turning away. "Come, Mokuba," he said. "Upstairs."

The two entered the study where Malik had said to met a minute later, Seto with a distinct glower on his face as he gave the room a cautionary glance and met the eyes of the man whom he assumed must be this "Dumbledore".

The man smiled at him, and Seto's frown deepened further when he say Yuugi and Ryö speaking quietly to each other off to the side, and Malik reclining in a puffy leather chair in the middle of the room, grinning at him. Seto's lips twisted in a sneer and he looked away, meeting Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and narrowing his own. "Welcome, Seto," Dumbledore said cheerfully, apparently unperturbed, "please, sit down."

"It's Kaiba," Seto growled, stubbornly remaining upright and on his feet.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," he murmured. "Well, in that case, perhaps you would like to sit down, Mokuba," he said, turning to the form that had crept out from behind his brother. Seto felt a moment's panic before he quelled the urge to hide Mokuba, and stiffened. "Rest assured, Mr. Kaiba," Dumbledore said, reaching into a pocket in his periwinkle robes and withdrawing a tin of something, "I have no intention of harming you or your brother." He pried something from the tin and extended it to Seto. "Sherbert lemon?"

"No," Seto said. Dumbledore shrugged and popped the sweet into his mouth.

"Suit yourself," he said.

"You say you have no intention of hurting us," Seto said suddenly, "yet according to what I heard, you and your _organization_ seemed pretty unconcerned if my brother lived or died."

Inclining his head briefly, Dumbledore spoke, "And perhaps that was a gross miscalculation on our part. However, at the time, it seemed like the right thing to do to wait it out and see what happened."

"I think you'll find," Seto hissed, tone poisonous, "that while I may permit others to flirt with their own, or my, mortality, I hold the life of my brother in much higher regard.

"_Nii-sama_!" Mokuba cried as if in protest, but Seto ignored his outcry, instead continuing to stare at Dumbledore. Malik cackled.

"So self-sacrificing," the blond said, grinning. "Is it bravery, Kaiba, which drives you to protect your brother unto death, or cowardice, which leads you to take the easy way out?" He choked suddenly, Seto's arm having moved as quick as the flash of fury that entered his eyes, to wrap long fingers around the Egyptian's neck.

Ryö squeaked, startled, and Yuugi shouted "Kaiba-_kun_", just as Mokuba yelled "_Nii-sama, iie_ (**4**)!".

"You would do better to remember, Ishtal," Seto snarled quietly into the other's ear, "that while your Rob is useless against me, I am trained to take lives, if necessary, with my bare hands." He squeezed his fingers slightly to be sure that he drove his point home, and released the tomb keeper, lip curling in disgust as he turned away from Malik's wheezing form.

"Seto," Dumbledore said, voice cold, "white your are under my supervision, I would appreciate it if you did not threaten others under my charge.

"You'll forgive me," Seto hissed, satisfaction coursing through hi veins at having made Dumbledore lose his cheery demeanour, "I'm afraid I forgot to mention that I am being held here against my will, and will not be abiding by your _rules_."

"I am sorry, Seto, that you had to endure four weeks of waiting, for weeks of not knowing, but you would have been a danger to yourself and to others had you been told!"

"And I ended up being a danger to myself anyways. Imagine that," Seto replied coolly.

Dumbledore sighed. "Seto— Kaiba— please sit down. If you would allow me, I would like to explain everything."

Still suspicious, Seto eyed the other before nodding curtly and taking a seat in a straight-backed ebony chair, facing Dumbledore. "Fine," he said, "you explain to me why you're keeping me and my brother here, and why you kept information of Mokuba's whereabouts and his state from me, and I'll think about listening to whatever else you feel you need to say."

Dumbledore inclined his head to the brunet and waved his wand, causing four overstuffed poufs to appear in midair, slowly twirling as they descended. "Yuugi, Ryö, Mokuba," Dumbledore said, sitting on one of the poufs and gesturing to the others, "please have a seat." The three did so, and Dumbledore inhaled, closing his eyes. "It all started," he said, opening his eyes again, "in Egypt early last summer. Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark wizard of out time, had been revived in June. Now, I assume all of you have been told of Voldemort's history?" When he received five nods, Dumbledore continued, "Good. Well, he was just beginning again, and he needed time to continue building up his forces— he needed to remain in hiding, so that he could bide his time. He spent several weeks in his old house in Little Hangleton, but disappeared one day, and our inside sources informed us that he was making a new headquarters in a forgotten village in Egypt, having developed an intense interest in prophesies and old magyk. According to our sources, Voldemort had a theory that all prophesies are inter-related, and he thought that he could learn more about a vision concerning him if he studied others. He found an old prophesy engraved on a sandstone tablet in an undiscovered tomb, and quickly enlisted the aid of several Egyptian sources to translate it for him. Unfortunately for him, the prophesy was not complete, and also references several other works of the time, which neither Voldemort nor his Deatheaters could find.

Switching gears, Voldemort decided to work on gaining access to the record of the original prophecy that he had wanted to know more about. Fortunately, the Order managed to thwart his final attempt at this just before this summer began, in June.

"Of course, then Voldemort had to fall back on his original plan. The Dark Lord was never stupid, though, and he'd had a second, smaller group researching the Egyptian prophesy just in case Plan A failed. As it turned out, they'd gotten a fair bit of information from an Egyptian curator, and so it seemed like they were back on track. They didn't need to skulk about in secret anymore, either, so he began to make more outward threats and expand his borders at a rate that was so great that for a while many thought he'd never be stopped again. Then they discovered that the tablet which the prophesy had referenced was encrypted, and their progress slowed so that the Order was able to begin to track their slower movements better. We found out that they had discovered that he prophesy was somehow talking about the future…our present…and that it directly referred to a chain of events, and the people involved in them, which had been taking place during the last year in the 'muggle world', as we wizards refer to it as. This drove Voldemort to research the people involved in both the present events, and the past, which looked to be repeating itself.

"Of course, this research…led him to you," Dumbledore said, looking around the room. His blue eyes landed on Mokuba, and he amended his statement. "All of you," he said, "except for one. _You_ were unmentioned, Mokuba, and they were unprepared for your presence when they bust in during your meeting with Bill and Remus to kidnap Seto. And they ended up with you as a captive, instead of your brother. You see, Seto— Kaiba— has been their target all along," Dumbledore said, standing up and beginning to pace, Seto's calculating sapphire eyes locked on his form. "They believe," the old Headmaster said, "that Kaiba is the reincarnation of an Egyptian Priest who, long ago, gained insurmountable power and became Pharaoh after his cousin, who was sacrificed to the power.

"They didn't quite get it right, though; they're still missing some valuable details to our knowledge, which is why they're working so hard to translate that tablet. Nevertheless, they formed a plan to convince, blackmail, or trick Se— Kaiba into joining their side, and they've been trying all summer to get it to succeed. They broke into your hotel room because they wanted to capture _you_, not your brother; when that failed, they attempted to use their _only known form_ of leverage over you— the life of your brother— so that they could blackmail you into joining their ranks. Finally, we— Bill— managed to completely foil that plan, and they are undoubtedly concocting up yet another. They will not stop trying to achieve their goal until they have you in their clutches, or you are dead." Dumbledore paused to take a breath, or perhaps to let it all sink in. Seto allowed his eyes to drift around the room and observe reactions to the tale, the blue orbs stilling on Yuugi and Malik in turn, who both looked ready to burst with questions: their back straight, bodies taut, eyes round and bright, lips pressed tightly together to lock in enquiries. Seto raised an eyebrow. True, he too had his own queries but he knew that he did not display this as much or as openly as either of the others.

Besides, this wanting him to be on one side of the other was nothing new. Even before Yuugi had come along, there had been corporate battles being fought between subsidiaries, each one fraught with people pestering him to join their "side"; to fight for their "cause". _Then_ Yuugi had come along, and every single tournament he entered turned into a battle between "good" and "evil", both sides trying to win him over. It was handy, at times (because, if he played the game right, he held all the cards— and he usually played the game right), but it could get rather annoying at times, and it was happening more and more often now.

"But what _was_ the prophecy?" blurted Yuugi, and Seto smirked. The teen had absolutely no patience.

Dumbledore turned from where he had been staring out the window the setting sun. "We do not know the exact words, but we can hazard a guess at to what one of it's biggest themes is. One would think that it has something to do with both Kaiba and Voldemort, that much is obvious, yet why be so desperate to persuade him, however possible, to join your cause if it is destined that he will? Likewise, why not just kill him if it was pre-ordained that he won't? I'd be willing to hazard a shrewd guess that the prophesy says that Seto is the one person who can either destroy or assure his chances at victory with one move, despite all other influences. In other words, even if there was another prophecy that foretold of the one who had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, if Seto joined his ranks, Voldemort would still prevail."

"There is no such thing as fate," Seto said stubbornly. "We make our own destinies."

Dumbledore met and held his gaze. "Perhaps," he said. "I believe that we all have choices, yes, but that we must still, at some point in time, face that one fork which has been foretold in our lives, and though we may choose to go one way or the other, after that choice is made, there's no going back."

"Only a fool would believe such a thing," Seto said, rising from his chair. "But I suppose that I should at least attempt to make an informed decision before I make a point of damning you all. Papers, please." He stretched out a hand, and Dumbledore looked at him for several seconds before finally withdrawing two stacks of parchment from the depths of his bright blue robes and handing them to Seto, who began to pursue the documents with undaunted speed, signing here and there with a pen that he was pulled from his pocket. Finished, Seto flipped back to the beginning and read through the papers again, then nodded to himself and re-stacked the papers, handing them back to Dumbledore and frowning at the astonished looks Yuugi, Ryö and Malik were giving him. "What?" he snapped.

"How did you do that so fast?" Malik asked, and Seto smirked.

"I'm the CEO of the fastest-growing technology-related company in the world, Ishtal," he said. "Trust me, it's not all fun and games" (his smirk widened at the pun) "most of it is paperwork."

"Excellent," Dumbledore broke in, having finished checking over the forms, and waving his wand, causing the documents to vanish and two sheets of parchment to appear in their places and soar towards Seto and Mokuba. Seto caught his and eyed the charmed parchment with distaste. "You supply lists," Dumbledore said. "We'll be going out to Diagon Alley tomorrow so that everybody can purchase what they need. You can go now, I suppose; but Kaiba, please stay behind. I'd like to talk with you."

Seto grunted and stayed where he was as the others filtered past him, Mokuba hesitating for just a second in the doorway before he, too, left, softly shutting the door behind himself.

"You may sit down, if you wish," Dumbledore said, but Seto shook his head, and the other shrugged. "I hope," he said, "that I did not alarm you too much with that little speech," he said.

"It takes a lot more that come crackpot wanting to take over the world to scare _me_," Seto scoffed. Dumbledore met his eyes.

"Yes, yes I can see that," he murmured. Seto shivered involuntarily, thinking of the one thing that _could_ scare him. "However," Dumbledore said, "if you have any information at all…."

"I try to stay out of Yuugi's little 'adventures'," Seto replied smoothly. "If you want to find out what your little Dark Side adversaries are looking for, I suggest you ask Ishtal or his sister. _They_ seem to be up in their scrawny little _necks_ in prophesies and Ancient Egyptian tablets." Blue eyes glittered, and a smirk flirted with his lips as he turned around, already halfway to the door. "Isis is curator of the Museum of Cairo."

The door swung shut behind him, and Seto raised an eyebrow at the boy with the eyes like Bill's who had been standing outside. He looked nervous, face pale and pinched, and occasionally rubbing at the oddly-shaped scar on his forehead. Briefly, Seto wondered what he had to ask Dumbledore, but quelled his curiosity and descended the stairs.

He felt those emerald eyes burning into his back as we went down, and firmly stopped a shiver before it began. _Nobody knows,_ he told himself. _And besides, it was just a kiss. Nothing more._

_It doesn't mean a thing._

But he couldn't stop the funny fluttery feeling in his stomach when he thought of green eyes and red hair and an earring shaped like a dragon's fang.

**-o-**

Early the next day, the group from Grimmauld Place set out towards London, the thirteen of them— Seto, Mokuba, Yuugi, Malik and Ryö, Harry, Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Lupin— piling into the car, which, Seto noticed, had been magically enlarged. He also noticed that the entire car stank of burnt wool and cheap alcohol, and that everybody seemed perfectly content to allow a pile of filthy rags to drive them around. As if in accordance with his glare, the rags moved, and grubby appendages began to emerge. Watching in horrified fascination, Seto stared as a dishevelled, ginger-haired man made his appearance behind the wheel, and said, in a gravely, rumbling voice slurred by sleep, "All 'o ya inside, then?"

"Yeah, Dung," Bill replied, and Seto raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Drive away," Bill said cheerfully, sitting back; as soon as he did so, the aptly-named Dung promptly laid it into the gas pedal, and they were off. Startled, Seto took a moment to recover when a mailbox leapt out of their way, but soon settled down and made a point to un-tense his muscles, pulling the supply list Dumbledore had given him out of his pocket and beginning to pursue it.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

Uniform  
_Fifth year students will require:  
__1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
__2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
__3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
__4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
__5. One set dress robes  
__Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags_

Set Books  
_All fifth year students should have a copy of each of the following:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_An Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 5) _by Samantha Sato_

_Mr Kaiba, as you are starting in year five, you will also require the following books:  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 2) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 3) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 4) _by Miranda Goshawk  
_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot  
_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling  
_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch  
_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore  
_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger  
_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _by Newt Scamander  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 1) _by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 2) _by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 3) _by Samantha Sato  
_The Dark Side of Magic (Volume 4) _by Samantha Sato_

Other Equipment  
_1 wand  
__1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
__1 set glass or crystal phials  
__1 telescope  
__1 set brass scale_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

Seto raised an eyebrow at the list, and slid it back into his pocket, feeling Bill's eyes following his movements. His own gaze flickered upwards briefly to meet the emerald one of the other, and Seto just as quickly looked away, his stomach doing flip-flops as he did so. Vaguely, Seto realized that somebody was speaking to him, and he forcibly turned his attention away from his intestines and toward the bushy-haired girl…Hermione, was it?

"…options are you taking?" She was peering up at him expectantly, a bright smile on her face, as though she felt she had found a kindred spirit.

"Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures," Seto replied.

"That's what I'm taking!" Hermione cried. Seto twitched. "We'll be in all the same classes!" she exclaimed, and Seto smirked.

"I doubt it," he said, pointing to the supply list she held clutched in her hand, "You're in sixth year. I'm in fifth." In response, Malik nearly fell out of his seat; apparently, he'd been listening in.

"_What_?" he exclaimed, staring incredulously at Seto, who rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Ishtal, I'm fifteen. I turn sixteen in October. Why? How old _should_ I be?" he asked as Malik spluttered, drawing the attention of everybody else in the car.

"Sixteen! The same as us!" Malik shouted, then paused, as though considering something. "Maybe older," he added as an afterthought.

"Sorry to disappoint," Seto said dryly, and turned to stare out the window, catching Bill's gaze in the reflection before looking away.

"…Foggy out, isn't it?" Yuugi asked conversationally, obviously attempting to get people talking again. Seto snorted. They were talking about the _weather_?

"It's the Dementors," Lupin said to everybody's surprise, as he'd been silent for the entire ride so far, "they're breeding."

Seto raised an eyebrow, eyes locked with Bill's in the window.

"I see," Yuugi said weakly, obviously not expecting such a dismal answer to his innocent question. "How…interesting."

"You've obviously forgotten what Dementors _are_, Yuugi," Seto drawled, not looking away from the miserable scenery outside. "Soul-sucking, happiness-eating demons, right, Lupin?"

Seto assumed that the other nodded, because the rest of the car ride was silent, until they slowed outside a shabby-looking pub labelled with a sign that read, in cracked and peeling paint, _The Leaky Cauldron_. Seto pushed open his door and stepped out of the car just as it rolled to a complete stop, brushing off his (Bill's) pants and standing there, looking around, as everyone else exited the car, chatting animatedly once again.

"This way now, everybody," Mrs. Weasley called, and everyone filtered into the vacant lot behind the bar, crowding against the dustbins as Mr. Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped at the bricks on the wall they were facing. A second later, Seto did a double-take, staring. The bricks were _moving_! Soon, what had been a solid stone wall only moments ago had formed into a huge archway, which the rest of the group, obviously familiar with this kind of phenomena, stepped through, Seto, Mokuba, Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö hanging back. Then, Bill glanced back, frowning at Seto, and the latter growled frustrated and stormed through the arch, head held high.

"I thought you'd never come," Bill said, grinning. Seto glared back at him.

"Why? Was that little magic trick supposed to shock me?" he snarled. Bill shrugged magnanimously, and Seto's frown deepened in annoyance.

"Seto, Bill, stop flirting and hurry up!" Ronald Weasley called, and Seto jumped slightly, only relaxing when a cursory glance of the boy's facial features, and the grins of those around him, revealed that he was joking. With one last glare shot at Bill, Seto stalked off after the rest of the group, calming down slightly when Mokuba slipped up to walk beside him.

"Right," Lupin said, "first stop: Gringott's Bank."

**to be continued…**

_Translations, etc:  
__Please, bear in mind that all translations (Japanese, especially) are very rough; I have a Japanese dictionary, but no conception of Japanese grammar, though I really wish I did. If you know a translation to be grammatically wrong, please correct me in a review. Thanks!  
(**1**) _Nii-sama, mezame-saseru, onegai— _Japanese for _Big brother, wake up, please  
_(**2**) _Nani— _Japanese for _What?_  
(**3**) _Mokuba, suru nai naku— _Japanese for _Mokuba, don't cry  
_(**4**) _Nii-sama, iie— _Japanese for _Big brother, no

_Notes, etc:  
Technically, there was supposed to be another fifteen-to-twenty pages to this chapter, but people were bugging me, and I figured that nearing forty pages was a bit much._

_Next chapter will include shopping, minor scuffles, sorting, and MAYBE first day of classes and another dream._

_Also, if anybody has a stray copy of HBP, could they point me to how JKR sets up the letter for OWL grades, and when Harry gets his? AKA, the month in which he receives it, and how early on/late in the month it came, layout, etc. (My sister misplaced my copy. Damn it.)_

_Thanks!_

_Credits, etc:  
Chapter title from the _Backstreet Boys' _CD "The Hits: Chapter One". Google to get lyrics._

_Review Responses, etc:  
Signed reviews have been replied to. Anonymous review responses can be viewed at my live journal (_http(**COLON DOUBLE-SLASH**)nachzes(**DOT**)livejournal(**DOT**)com)


	11. X: Just Like in the Movies

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Ten: Just Like in the Movies  
Nachzes Black-Rider**

They arrived at Gringott's Bank without any further mishaps; nevertheless, Seto seemed determined to keep a safe distance between Bill and himself at all times, and persisted in ignoring the inquiring looks that the redhead threw his way. Finally, Bill managed to get within a foot of him when the other stopped short at the sight of the bank: built completely out of pristine white marble, with burnished brass accents and trim, even the elder Kaiba, accustomed to luxury as he was, must find it impressive, Bill thought. "Seto," he began, touching the other's wrist lightly with an unobtrusive hand, but that was as far as he got. As soon as their skin touched and the name fell from Bill's mouth, Seto drew away and started hurriedly up the marble steps without saying a word. Bill watched him go, frowning, but made no attempt to confront the brunet—at least not immediately.

The first set of brass doors flew open as the group approached them, revealing the second set of solid silver doors with their engraved warning. Out of the corner of his eye, Bill saw Ryö eye said poem with a smirk, then turn to Malik and whisper something to the blond, who smirked, too.

Inside the bank, Bill hastened to set up accounts for Seto and Mokuba, Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö, and to transfer their money into magical currency, as the others took the carts down to their vaults and stocked up on Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

Half an hour later, with money in their pockets and Yuugi sporting a rare chagrined look (Malik had not stopped ragging the diminutive teen about how the goblins were as tall as him), the company of thirteen split up into three groups: Bill, Seto, and Mokuba; Yuugi, Malik, Ryö, and Lupin; and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. While the second and third group went to their respective shops in Diagon Alley, Bill, Seto and Mokuba headed back toward Muggle London in order to, in Seto's words, "acquire some decent attire". Seto and Mokuba, with their lack of clean clothing, had been wearing, respectively, Bill and Yuugi's spare clothes, and Bill guessed that Seto wanted mainly to re-outfit his younger sibling. Even the redhead, with his penchant for outlandish clothing, had to admit that it was a bit disconcerting to see the youngest Kaiba covered in leather, straps, and buckles.

And so it was, an hour and a half later, that they headed back to Diagon Alley, both Kaibas suitably stocked up on new clothes (Seto was also carrying a new laptop, in addition to his other bags, courtesy of a sly detour while _en route_ to a tailor).

"You do know that that won't work anywhere near Hogwarts," Bill told Seto.

"I've yet to be discouraged," Seto replied, giving the brick archway a dirty look as they stepped under it.

"It won't work," Bill repeated as they started down Diagon Alley towards Ollivanders.

"It'll work, Weasley," Seto said in a clipped voice, looking straight ahead. Bill sighed, pushing open the door to the wand shop, the familiar tinkle-y bell ringing, and stepped in, closely followed by Seto and his brother.

As the elder Kaiba eyed the dusty shop with distaste evident in his expression, Bill watched the shadows for Mr. Ollivander, knowing well his penchant for sneaking up on unsuspecting customers. Sure enough, the old man materialized on Seto's left and, looking up at the teen with silver eyes, spoke: "Hello," he said in his whispery voice, startling both Bill and Mokuba, but evidently not Seto, as the brunet only looked disparagingly down at the shopkeeper and nodded curtly. Mr. Ollivander's eyes glowed.

"Curious, curious…" he said, then turned to Mokuba. "Which is your wand arm?" he asked.

The black-haired child's expression became confused, and he glanced to Bill, who explained quickly. "Your dominant hand," he said. "Which hand do you use to write with?" Mokuba's expression cleared, and he nodded.

"I'm right-handed," he said, eyes widening as Mr. Ollivander whipped out a tape measure and the thing set to work measuring Mokuba's arms itself.

Soon, the shopkeeper came back; withdrawing a wand from one of the several boxes he was carrying, he handing it to Mokuba. "White birch," he said, "unicorn hair, nine and a half inches. Give it a try!"

Sending a nervous look at Bill and his brother, Mokuba cautiously waved the wand a little, wincing when it let out a loud _bang_ and blackened a spot on the carpet. "I'm sorry," he started to say, but Mr. Ollivander cut him off with a tutting sound and a dismissive hand.

"Happens all the time," he said. "Here, try this one: maple, phoenix tail feather, twelve inches…."

Fifteen minutes later, Mokuba held in his hand his new wand (wrapped in its box): white birch, phoenix tail feather, and nine inches long, it had sent off bright red sparks when he'd waved it, and Mr. Ollivander had pronounced it his. Turning to Seto, the shopkeeper spoke:

"I remember only two others who, upon stepping foot into this shop, were not shocked by my sudden appearance…. Both, of course, went on to do great things…but one for good, and one for evil. I wonder, which will you choose…?"

A dark smirk flirted with Seto's lips. "Whichever suits me best," he replied.

"A slippery slope indeed," Mr. Ollivander whispered. "Now, which is your wand arm?" he asked, whipping out the measuring tape again.

"Left," Seto said. "But I can use both." He glared at the measuring tape as it started measuring his arms on its own, Mr. Ollivander having abruptly turned and hurried towards the towering shelves which crowded the shop as soon as the words had left Seto's mouth.

But Bill was still staring at Seto from after his previous cryptic admission; emerald eyes watched blue carefully, studying the carefully-closed off orbs for some clue, some inkling as to his actions…. Seto stared back impassively, ignoring the measuring tape as it wrapped around his waist—twenty-five inches, the redhead noticed with a frown—and Bill turned away to watch Mr. Ollivander, who was sorting through boxes of wands. Finally, the man came back with four long, skinny boxes and set them on the floor, opening the first and handing the wand inside to Seto, who accepted it reluctantly.

"Cherry wood, phoenix tail feather, twelve inches," the man said, rocking back on his heels. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he continued when Seto did nothing. "Give it a wave!"

Giving the storekeeper another contemptuous look, Seto flicked the wand boredly, his face breaking out into a rare genuine grin as hair suddenly sprouted from Mr. Ollivander's nose and ears at a phenomenal rate. Quickly, the man pulled out his own wand and muttered something under his breath; the extra hair disappeared, and Seto frowned.

"Not that one," Mr. Ollivander said cheerily, selecting another wand. "Here, try this one…."

Soon, the floor was covered in boxes of wands, and the storekeeper wore a rare frustrated expression. "Which to choose, which to choose," he muttered, flitting around the shelves. "Oak, I think—he seemed to react well to that…a long wand, yes…but what kind of core…?" Suddenly, he froze, long-fingered hand positioned over a box. "I wonder…" he said, trailing off into silence. Seconds later, he seized the box and hurried back, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. "If this isn't the wand for you, I don't know what is!" he proclaimed, shoving it into Seto's hand; suddenly, there was a burst of blue light, and when Seto waved the wand, brilliant sapphire and silver sparks flew from it. Mr. Ollivander clapped, appearing delighted, but Bill noticed that Seto's hand shook as he handed the wand back to the shopkeeper, and that his eyes were wider than usual. "Excellent, excellent," Mr. Ollivander said as he waved his own wand at the boxes littering the floor, which quickly flew back to their places on the shelves. "I must say, I was a bit worried; the last person who tried that wand nearly blew up my shop!" He handed the wrapped package to Seto. "Oak, three dragon heartstrings, eleven and three-quarter inches, my lad. A little delicate for a man's wand, but firm. And a good day to you!" he called as Seto hastened toward the shop's exit, Bill and Mokuba trailing after him.

Next, Bill lead them to the apothecary, where they bought potion ingredients, phials, scales and cauldrons for the brothers; then Flourish and Blotts, where Bill had to drag Seto away from the bookshelves after they had finished purchasing all the set books; then _Étoiles_, where they collected the assigned telescopes; and finally to Madam Malkin's. In the last shop, Seto and Mokuba were fitted for both uniform and dress robes—Seto chose deep blue, almost black, kimono-like dress robes with a large Oriental dragon embroidered in silver on the back, while Mokuba selected robes that shimmered all the colours of the rainbow.

"That's the last of it," Bill said, a little wearily, glancing at the pair's school lists. "Unless, of course, you want something extra. You could get a pet, and Seto, you can get a broomstick. I'd recommend it for your flying class; the school brooms are terrible. And if you want to try out for your house's Quidditch team, then you'll need your own."

To Bill's surprise, Seto looked interested. "What's Quidditch?" he asked.

"What's Quidditch?" Bill said, slightly astonished. "That's right, you wouldn't know, would you?" Seto was beginning to look impatient, so Bill went on. "Quidditch is a wizarding sport. It's the most played and most watched wizarding sport in the world; it's kind of like muggle basketball, I suppose. It's played in the air, hence the brooms, and there are seven players on each team: the Keeper, who watches the goal hoops; three Chasers, who try to score; two Beaters, who hit balls called "Bludgers" at the other team's members to try to distract them; and the Seeker, whose job it is to catch the golden Snitch. Now, there are two ways to get points. One is for one of one team's three Chasers to get the Quaffle—that's a big red ball—past the other team's Keeper and through one of the three hoops; that earns the scoring team ten points. The other option is to catch the Snitch: that's done by the Seeker, and it earns that Seeker's team one hundred and fifty points, and ends the game. It's very hard to catch the Snitch, because it's very small and very quick," Bill said.

"It sounds cool," Mokuba said eagerly. "Can I play?"

Bill grinned. "No," he said, "you're a first year; you're not even allowed your own broom." He paused. "There are exceptions," he said. "Harry got to be seeker for Gryffindor in his first year, but that sort of thing is very rare."

Mokuba frowned and muttered something under his breath in Japanese that made Seto glare at him. Then the brunet looked up at Bill, eyes glittering. "Where do you buy brooms?"

"You can buy brooms, equipment, and all sorts of Quidditch-related stuff at Quality Quidditch Supplies," Bill said. "I take it you want to go there next, and then to Magical Menagerie?"

Seto shrugged, obviously not comfortable with appearing to be overly excited about anything, and Bill grinned. "This way," he said, leading them towards the Quidditch store; a large crowd around the window display perked his interest. "Wait," he said, putting a hand on Seto's arm, "I want to see what all the fuss is about." Leading the other two along, Bill elbowed his way into the crowd, stopping when he saw Harry and Ron. "What are you two doing here?" he asked, but they merely pointed at the display case. Bill turned, and stared: a long, thin broomstick sat on a cushion, its handle a brilliantly-polished ebony black, with several silver prongs laying alongside the twigs on its back end, lending a more streamlined look to the broom. _THE FIREFLY, _read the plaque beneath it, _From the makers or the Firebolt, this high-tech racing broom, perfect for professional Quidditch, sports a carefully-treated, streamlined handle made from super-fine sanded ebony, coated with a diamond-hard polish. Each broom is hand-painted with its own registration number, and label. Every carefully-selected cherry twig in the broomtail has been shaped and polished to aerodynamic perfection. The Firefly is endowed with perfect balance and pinpoint precision that even surpasses that of the unsurpassable Firebolt, carrying on the tradition of excellence, and the new Firefly has an acceleration of 0-300 miles an hour in just twelve-and-a-half seconds, outshining its cousin's phenomenal acceleration by ten miles per second! Like the Firebolt, the Firefly incorporates an unbreakable braking charm, and also comes with a new safety feature: an alert charm that sounds whenever something gets too close to you in any direction. Price on request._

Hearing somebody coming up behind him, Bill turned to see Seto eyeing the broom with a gleam of what looked like excitement in his eyes.

"Is this broom good?" he asked Bill, but before the redhead could answer, Ron interrupted.

"Good?" the boy exclaimed. "It's the best broomstick ever; and it just came out yesterday! Hell, this broom could put the Firebolt to shame!"

Seto smirked. "So it's good," he said. Ron goggled the brunet, making Bill glare at his brother; Seto, however, ignored the blatant staring and turned back to the broomstick, a hungry look in his eye. "Price on request…" he murmured. "That's a bad sign. I'll have to trick the dealer into divulging how much it's worth…."

"You're going to buy the broom, Kaiba?" Bill heard Harry choke.

"If I can get a good deal for it, which is highly likely, then yes," Seto said, straightening.

"And who are you to have the means to achieve such a deal?" someone drawled lazily from behind them; Bill whipped around, and heard his brother hiss.

"Malfoy," Harry bit off, sounding like he was gritting his teeth as he spoke.

"Potty," the blond drawled, smirking. "Weasel King, and Weasel King's brother…but I'm afraid I don't know the other two." He cocked his head at Seto, whose face was quickly growing stormy, and Mokuba, who was looking worriedly up at his brother.

"Draco," Bill growled, forcing a sneer on his face— _What if he recognizes Seto?_ he thought, panic making his heart beat fast— "why don't you just bugger off?"

"Language, Weasley," Draco said smoothly. "I simply wanted to know their names." His eyes flickered towards Seto again, then back to Bill. "Not to mention," he continued, smirking, "why two such obviously wealthy people would be with trash like you Weasleys." His eyes bored into Bill's, and the redhead suddenly realised how much they looked like Seto's.

"Why you— !" Ron shouted, and Bill felt a sense of relief when he charged at Malfoy, forcing the blond to break their staring contest.

"Ron, don't," he said, grabbing the back of his brother's jumper. "He's not worth it."

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, I highly doubt that," he said softly, and Bill got the impression that those words were meant especially for him to hear. Then, looking at Seto again, Malfoy spoke again, this time louder. "I'll be seeing you around," he said to Seto, then left, vanishing into the crowd. Bill felt his tense muscles go limp in relief, and he sighed, releasing Ron's collar.

"Thank Merlin," he said. "I thought he'd recognised Seto."

"I guess he didn't," Ron said, shrugging. "Though I still would have liked to knock his block off."

"Wouldn't we all," Bill murmured, then turned back to Seto, who was still staring blankly in the direction that Malfoy had taken off in, a frown masking his delicate features. "Seto?" Bill asked, and the brunet snapped to attention, glancing towards Bill.

"Who was that?" he asked.

Bill pursed his lips and looked around at the crowd. "I'll tell you later," he said, "when we get back." He nodded to the broomstick in the window. "Are you going to get it?" he asked.

Seto swept him with a look again before giving a curt nod and walking into the shop. Bill watched as he went up to the counter and began talking to the clerk, before looking down to see Mokuba, who was gazing worriedly up at him.

"He's on their side, isn't he?" he asked. "He's one of…one of _them_."

Bill put an arm around the boy when he shivered involuntarily at the mention of Deatheaters. "Don't worry," he said quietly. "We're not going to let them get to you or Seto ever again." He felt Mokuba relax, and frowned. For all that the eleven-year-old put up a good face, he was still just a kid. Even if he was a Kaiba.

"Hey, Bill," Ron said, interrupting the elder's musings, "something's happening in there."

Looking up, Bill saw Seto withdraw several fat golden coins from his money pouch and push them towards the man behind the counter. The storekeeper eyed them greedily, and nodded, then pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and gave them to Seto, who quickly signed the document in a few places, and then pushed it back. The clerk waved his wand, causing a duplicate copy to appear, then walked out from behind the counter into a back room, and came back with a parcel wrapped in shiny black paper, which he handed to Seto along with the duplicate of what Bill assumed was some sort of contract. Seto was smirking triumphantly when he exited the shop carrying his new broom, and a quick glance at the man behind the counter yielded a view of the man's slightly-chagrined expression. Putting two and two together, Bill grinned.

"How much did you beat him down?" he asked.

"He started out at five hundred Galleons with a down payment of one hundred Galleons, but I haggled him down to two hundred and fifty Galleons with fifty down," Seto said, his smirk widening as he carefully added his new parcel to his pile of bags and packages. "It really was easier than I expected— I suppose he still got more for the broom than it's worth, but I really didn't want to keep arguing with him. He's much too dim-witted to make for a good bargaining partner."

Bill grinned at the other's rare display of humour (dry though it was), and glanced down at Mokuba. "Do you want to go get your pet now?" he asked. The younger Kaiba's eyes brightened, and he nodded eagerly. "Right," Bill said. "To the Magical Menagerie it is, then!"

"And you're sure that's a pet store, not a zoo?" Seto asked, gathering up all his parcels.

"Quite sure," Bill said, grinning again as they started off, leaving Harry and Ron behind to continue salivating over the new broomstick. "Now, do you have any idea what you want? Your lists say you can have an owl, a cat, or a toad, but you can have any pet, really, so long as it's not dangerous; Ron has— had— a rat, and my sister Ginny has a pygmy puff, which is just a smaller, pinker, puffskien; and even Dumbledore has a phoenix."

"Well," Mokuba said, "I don't know, really. I'd quite like a kitten, but it'd be cool to have an owl, wouldn't it?" he asked.

"They're dead useful," Bill agreed. "They carry your post and everything, but they're not very good company, since they're gone a lot of the time delivering post. Add in the fact that they're nocturnal, and you'd probably be better off getting another pet for companionship, and just using the school owls for letters and such." They turned a corner, and Bill led them toward the shop labelled, with flashing lettering formed by various animals, _Magical Menagerie_. Inside, Bill was caught slightly off-guard by the sheer volume of all the different caws and barks and hisses coming from the cages piled in every available space on the floor and the walls. Mokuba looked slightly frightened, but Seto, as usual, was completely impassive, though Bill noticed that he did place a hand on Mokuba's shoulder, which seemed to calm the child.

Several minutes later, Mokuba, having adjusted to the raucous noises, was peering interestedly into a cage full of puffskiens: caramel-coloured balls of fluff, they rolled around in the wood shavings littering the floor of their cage, emitting contented humming noises as they did so. When one of them rolled over to Mokuba and its long, pink tongue emerged to lick the boy's face, Mokuba grinned and looked up at Bill. "Can I have him?" he asked, pointing at the puffskien, and laughing when the animal's tongue curled around his finger.

"Ask your brother, not me," Bill said, gesturing to Seto, who was browsing the cages full of reptiles.

"_Nii-sama_!" Mokuba called, and Seto whipped around, barely managing to hide the flash of fear in his eyes as he hurried over.

"_Nani_?" he asked, and Bill realised that, in his panic, he'd forgotten to speak in English.

Mokuba glanced at his brother, and Bill thought he saw a flicker of concern before the other spoke. "_Nii-sama_, could I get this for a pet?" Mokuba asked, gesturing to the puffskien. Seto looked relieved for a brief moment, but covered it up quickly.

"Of course, Mokuba," he said. The younger grinned and looked back at Bill.

"Where do I buy him?" he asked.

"Come on," Bill said, picking up the cage, "I'll show you." He chanced one last glance at Seto before turning and leading Mokuba toward the front desk, placing the cage on the counter in front of the witch behind it. "Hello," he said, "We'd like to buy…which one did you want again?" he asked Mokuba, and the boy pointed, "…this puffskien, please," he told the witch, who nodded and reached behind the counter, bringing up a catalogue, licking her finger and flipping pages until she reached one emblazoned with pictures of cages.

"We have a variety of cages especially for puffskiens, dear," she said to Mokuba. "Which one do you like?"

Mokuba bent over the counter to study the catalogue, then pointed to a picture of a cage made from clear plastic, its edges and corners brightly-coloured. _Comes with a free food-water combo dish!_ read the ad beside the photo. _Add-ons optional; only five Galleons each! Comes in a variety of colours: blue, pink, or green!_ "I'd like this one, please," he said.

"What colour, dear?" the witch asked. "And would you like to purchase any add-on sections? What kind of shavings would you prefer…?"

Several minutes later, Mokuba was carrying his new puffskien in its blue plastic cage, a bag of food, wood shavings, and assorted other merchandise having joined its fellow parcels on Mokuba's arms. Looking around, Bill spotted Seto examining a brochure, an expression of interest on his face. Heading over to the Kaiba, Bill tapped him on the shoulder. "Aren't you going to get anything?" he asked the other, trying to see the brochure properly. "What's that?" he finally asked, giving up on being subtle. Raising an eyebrow, Seto handed it to him wordlessly. Bill turned it over, and eyed the title, _The Complete Guide to Everything There is to Know About Dragons_, then grinned. "You know," he said, putting the brochure back and grinning, "you'd be better off asking my brother Charlie about dragons, and just taking notes." Seto's blue eyes met his, scrutinizing him, probably trying to find out whether or not he was trying to be funny, and then the brunet did something completely unexpected: he smiled. It was hesitant, and shaky, and two seconds later Bill wondered if he'd ever even seen it, but Seto Kaiba had _smiled_. And for Bill, of all people. The redhead grinned, so high up on the clouds that he barely heard Seto speaking. "Huh?" he asked, bumping back to earth.

"I said 'I'll take it under consideration'," Seto said. "Asking Charlie about dragons, I mean," he added.

Bill smiled. "Good," he said. "He can talk your ear off, for a change."

Seto smirked, and then looked around. "Where's Mokuba?" he asked.

"Over by the puffskiens again," Bill said, pointing. "He already has his, but I think he wishes he could have gotten them all." He paused. "He's a cute kid," he said, hoping that such a sentiment wouldn't offend Seto. To his delight, the elder Kaiba didn't look offended— then again, he didn't really look like anything at all anymore; he'd become emotionless Kaiba again. Bill sighed. "Are you going to get anything?" he asked again, remembering what his original intent was when he'd come to talk to Seto.

The brunet shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I'm not really good with pets…I don't have much time for them at home; I barely have enough time for Mokuba."

"How about something that doesn't need much attention?" Bill asked. "Like a…reptile," he suggested, remembering how much time the other had spent in that particular aisle. "A snake, maybe," he said slightly reluctantly, loathe to mention that particular animal.

To his surprise, Seto shook his head, another rare flash of some unidentifiable emotion crossing through his eyes. "No," he said firmly, "no snakes."

"Why— ?" Bill began, but Seto cut him off.

"I said no snakes," he said, evidently wanting Bill to drop the subject. The redhead complied, though slightly reluctantly.

"Okay…" he said, looking around for inspiration. "How about a cat?" he asked suddenly, reminded by how feline Seto was himself. "They start out a little stand-offish, but you learn to love them, in the end…" he trailed off: Seto was looking at him, a strange expression on his face.

"I'm not a cat, Weasley," he said, and Bill flushed.

"No," he admitted, "but you're a lot like one." He twisted his hands together behind his back nervously. _Don't let Seto be mad…_ he thought.

"To each his own," Seto said, breaking eye contact and looking around the shop. "Now where are these feline creatures you were speaking of?"

Bill grinned. "Over here," he said. "Come on, I'll show you…."

When all three of them headed out of the shop, a glossy black kitten sat on Seto's shoulder, the purring contentedly, its green eyes barely open.

"What are you going to call her, _Nii-sama_?" Mokuba asked. Bill looked over at the elder Kaiba curiously, waiting for his answer.

"Chaos," Seto said, smirking.

"Why?" Bill found himself asking, curious.

"Set is the Egyptian god of chaos, destruction, storms, and foreign lands," Seto explained. "My name is the Japanese phonetic equivalent of his; in the spirit of me being feline, I'm naming the cat after myself." His voice was monotonous, but Bill thought he saw the flicker of a smile on Seto's lips, if only for a second.

**-o-**

An hour later, having taken the train to within a block of Grimmauld Place, and then walked the rest of the way, the threesome arrived at the old Black mansion. Once inside, Bill set Mokuba's bags down on the floor (he'd wound up carrying them at some point while walking through muggle London mostly because, even thought Mokuba had protested, he'd seen that the boy was tired, and had insisted on taking them; besides, Bill felt that the look that Seto had given him was worth the strain on his arms). Wearily, the eldest Weasley brother swept his hair back and snapped an elastic around it, then picked up Mokuba's bags again. "Come on," he said to Mokuba and Seto, "let's get these up to your room." Seto nodded, and Bill noticed that he, too, showed signs of tiredness, subtle thought they were: his shoulders were as straight as ever, but his stance was less dramatic than usual, and his eyes seemed duller. _Girls are masochists, _Bill decided. _How they can put up with an entire day of shopping, I have no idea._

They headed up the stairs, Mokuba trailing behind the other two, and deposited the bags in the room that Seto and Mokuba shared; the younger Kaiba brother immediately collapsed upon his bed, groaning.

"_Kami-sama_," he said emphatically, "I'm _never_ doing that again!"

Bill grinned. "My sentiments exactly," he said.

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley's familiar voice sounded from downstairs. "It's time for dinner!"

Dinner at the household was a rare quiet affair; everybody seemed exhausted from a long day of shopping. Bill thought that it must be a welcome change for Seto, as everybody seemed too distracted or tired to nag him to eat more. Finally everybody finished eating, and Bill looked sideways to see Mokuba nodding off in his chair, his spoon held limply in one hand. Grinning, he nudged Seto and gestured towards the child. Turning in his chair, Seto reached out and shook Mokuba's hand gently to get him to release the spoon, then stood and lifted the sleepy child into his arms, carrying him out of the room and up the stairs.

Bill watched the other silently, a soft smile on his lips. _Merlin's beard,_ he thought, _he's beautiful!_

Gazing after the other's retreating form, Bill Weasley realized that he was even deeper sunk than he had first thought.

**° ¥ ° **

Two weeks and two days later, September the first dawned on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place; the last fortnight had been filled with scattered mishaps, the most prominent being Seto's victory against Bill involving the bet they had made over whether or not Seto would get his laptop to work.

Amazingly, he had succeeded in getting the computer to operate, although it had taken quite a lot of research on his part, and a bit of bribing the Weasley twins to do the spell work that (according to Dumbledore) he was forbidden to do during the summer.

And so it was that, at six o'clock in the morning on September the first, that Seto carefully packed his laptop away in his trunk along with all his wizarding paraphernalia (Chaos was in a cat-carrier beside Seto's trunk), and, for the hundredth time that morning, wondered why in the world he was going along with someone else's plan. _I hate this,_ he thought, sitting down on his bed and putting a hand over his eyes in a rare show of vulnerability. _I hate feeling like I don't know what to do!_ He looked over at the other bed in the room and the lump under the covers. _I can't fail him,_ Seto told himself. _I can't. Not again._

And for the first time in nearly sixteen years, Seto Kaiba broke down and allowed the tears gathering in his eyes to fall.

His shoulders shook and tears slid silently down his cheeks, leaving wet trails that dried and left his skin feeling tight and crusty, his eyes sore.

"Seto?" he heard, and froze. Footsteps, and then the voice came again: "Seto, are you okay?"

He wanted to say yes, to make that haunting voice go away, but his throat felt tight and constricted, and he couldn't speak…. He felt the mattress shift to his left, and a hand found its way onto his shoulder. He tensed, refusing to look at the other, keeping his face covered, but another hand tugged at his, gently forcing him to lower them. He turned his face away, his last defence, but the other took his chin between slim fingers, coaxing his head to turn ever so tenderly, and he complied. Eyes closed, trembling slightly, he felt the other brush the pad of his thumb over damp cheeks, and his eyes flickered open cautiously to meet Bill's emerald green orbs.

"Seto," he heard the other say, that one word soothing the broken edges and mending the many cracks and bruises of his soul, "it's okay." He shook his head— the other didn't understand— but Bill spoke again. "It's okay to cry, Seto."

"…_okay to cry…."_

"_It's okay to cry, Seto."_

He closed his eyes again and turned his face away, because he couldn't look into those deep green eyes and continue to deny everything Bill had kept trying to tell him, and when he was faced with the emotions swirling around in those eyes, he wasn't sure he even wanted to, and Kaiba Seto was never unsure about anything.

"_I love you."_

Not even love.

"Seto?" Bill asked, touching Seto's cheek again, "What's wrong?"

The brunet whipped around, eyes blazing, forcing himself to be angry. "Don't you dare try to act like you _care_, Weasley!" he said, his low, tight voice making it clear that if Mokuba wasn't sleeping in the next bed over, he would be yelling.

"Seto, why are you acting like this—!"

"I hate you! I hate _all _of you fucking _wizards_!" Seto hissed back, hands white-knuckled and clenched into fists. God, it hurt to say it, but he had to know for sure…. "I was perfectly fine before you came into my life and _ruined _it! Who are you to come along preaching about _love_ and _magic_ and how I need to 'save mankind' and join you? You nearly let my brother _die_! Why the _hell_ should I trust you?"

It was Bill's turn to look away, and when he spoke his voice trembled.

"You're right," he said. Shocked, Seto opened his mouth to interrupt, but Bill went on. "Why would you trust me? Why would you trust any of us? You have no reason to—I admit, sometimes I'm wrong. I'm not perfect, Seto. But I do know one thing." He looked back at the other, his eyes locking with Seto's. "I wasn't lying when I said I loved you."

Seto shook his head, denying it. Desperate confusion laced his words when he spoke. "You had to have been," he said.

Bill met his eyes. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you think I could never love you? Is it because I'm a man?" Seto thought he caught a slight inflection on the last word, and he looked away. _That wasn't what I wanted him to think,_ he thought.

"You can't love me," he said haltingly, struggling to explain. "I'm too cold; too heartless. I could never love you back. I'll only end up hurting you."

"So you'd rather be a martyr?" Bill's voice was cold, and Seto flinched.

"It's what I am," he whispered. "What other purpose do I have to live, other than to keep Mokuba alive? My _company_? Even _I'm_ not _that_ work-obsessed."

"You're infuriating," Bill said, and Seto gasped as the other forced him to meet his eyes once more. "Don't you know that you have so much more to live for than just a sense of duty to your brother? Why can't you see that I'm telling the truth? All you have to do is _look_ at me!"

"I don't want to," Seto breathed, eyes caught by the other's captivating emerald orbs. "I don't want to believe you."

Hurt and confusion stained the other's voice when he spoke, asking, "Why?"

"Because I'm scared that I might love you too," Seto whispered, voice trembling.

Bill's eyes softened again, and he gently touched Seto's face. "Don't be scared," he said. "You shouldn't be scared of love…yes, it can hurt; yes, it might end badly; but without it, there's nothing to live for. You have to have hope."

"I don't want to get hurt again," Seto said desperately, throat aching from holding back tears.

Bill stroked the other's cheek with one finger. "I can't promise that you won't be," he said, "but I can promise you that it's all worth it, in the end."

"How would you know?" Seto asked, choking on the words.

"I've been in love," Bill said. "I met her last summer, and we had a year together until Voldemort's deatheaters kidnapped her. We had gotten engaged just a week before. I wanted to organize a rescue party, but the rest of the Order disagreed. I was new to their strategies, so I just went along with what they said. It didn't work; Voldemort had his deatheaters kill Fleur when he failed to gain any information from her or blackmail the Order into divulging secrets. It hurt more than anything else I'd ever experienced before, but I made it through, and I'm no more sorry for feeling the love that I did than I'm sorry for falling in love with you, or continuing to breathe."

Seto glanced down, then back up at Bill. "Is that why…" he began, but trailed off.

Bill apparently understood, however, because he nodded and said, "Yes, that's why I became an 'idiotic vigilante' and went off to save Mokuba."

Glancing away again, Seto nodded, teeth worrying at his lip. "I don't know what to do," he admitted, cursing himself inwardly for being weak.

"It doesn't matter," Bill said, gently turning Seto's head so that the brunet was facing him again. Seto felt his throat start to ache again when he saw the soft smile on Bill's lips, and he didn't look away at the other's next words. "All you have to do—all you _can _do, really—is try."

Silence reigned for a few more minutes before Seto finally answered. "I'll try," he promised. Bill smiled, and Seto felt his heart jump into his throat as the others lips covered his lightly, then pulled back. Slim fingers brushed back a strand of russet hair, and Bill smiled.

"That's all I ask," he said, then stood. "I'll see you later," he said cryptically.

Seto glanced over at Mokuba, who was still sleeping, then mouthed _stay_. He thought that that was what he was supposed to say…or, at least, it's what they always did in all the movies.

Bill smiled, but shook his head. "I can't," he said, leaning down and kissing Seto on the forehead. The brunet cringed inwardly, feeling like a child, or at least a girl, but didn't say anything; from what he remembered, this happened in the movies, too. Another kiss, this time on the lips, making Seto's heart beat fast, another murmured farewell, and then Bill was gone.

It hadn't felt right, and Seto was left feeling strangely empty…but it had been just like what happened in the movies, and that was what everyone wanted, so it would make sense that Seto should want it too.

Right?

**-o-**

Seto had never seen the Black mansion in such chaos. Its residents dashed around frantically, yelling at the top of their lungs and hurling last-minute impulse items into the trunks piled in the front hallway. The portraits were screaming again, but every time someone closed one's curtains, it would start up again, immediately awakened by the racket.

"Pigwidgeon, get back here!" Seto, who was sitting on top of his trunk and surveying the complete bedlam, heard Ron shout, followed by a loud crash and the twittering of the youngest Weasley boy's tiny owl. "Ouch! Damn it, Pig!" Ron cried, then, two seconds later, "Gotcha!" he exclaimed triumphantly, and Seto grimaced.

"Ginny, dear, please hurry," Mrs. Weasley's worried voice sounded from some other room in the house. "We only have a half an hour until the train leaves!"

Seto checked his ticket (11:00 am), then his watch (10:27 am), and found himself wondering absently whether or not they would make the train, and, if they didn't, how would they get to the school. By the absence of out-right panic in the Weasley family's voices, he assumed that there was either A: a second train, or B: this happened every year. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter.

Glancing sideways at his brother, Seto grinned at the younger boy's shocked expression. Apparently, Mokuba caught the grin, because he blushed and said hotly, "Well, it's complete anarchy! There's no _way _we're going to get to the train station on time!"

Seto, looking around at the disorganization all around, had to agree.

As if simply to prove him wrong, in a whirl of organized confusion (a cliché, Seto knew, but there was no other phrase for it!), they somehow ended up at the station with, breaking all laws of logical time travel across London, five minutes to spare. The brunet's head was still whirling, though he knew that he didn't show it outwardly, for which he was grateful.

"Hurry, dears!" Mrs. Weasley said, jogging alongside everyone else as they dashed towards the trolleys, dragging their trunks behind them. "Everyone grab a trolley, now! Hurry, Ron dear! We don't want to miss the train!"

Seto grabbed a trolley and heaved his own and Mokuba's trunk onto it, along with Chaos in her cat carrier and Mokuba's puffskien (newly christened Butterscotch) in its plastic cage, growling to himself as he did so. His nerves were frayed, but he'd be damned if he let himself snap again.

Looking around, he suddenly halted. There was a platform nine, and a platform ten, but where was platform nine and three-quarters? Seto glanced at his ticket again, checking to make sure that he hadn't misread it, but it appeared that he hadn't. "What the…?" he muttered.

"Come on, dear," Mrs. Weasley told him (she still hadn't gotten the message that he like to be called "Kaiba" yet), attempting to usher him along, "we're going to miss the train if we don't hurry!" And before he could inform her that the platform didn't _exist_, she rushed over to the others, trying to hurry them along, too. Just then, the Potter boy pushed his trolley up beside Seto's. Seto frowned down at him, eyes silently demanding answers.

"The platform's magically concealed," Potter said. "You have to go through the barrier to get to it; don't worry, it'll let you through, but it's always better to take it at a bit of a run if you're nervous, I find."

Seto stared at him. "Are you insane?" he asked in a low voice. Harry grinned.

"People have told me so," he said, "but personally, I think I'm perfectly sane, especially regarding this issue. Now do you want to catch the train, or not?" he asked. Seto glowered at him, then glanced back at the barrier, scrutinizing it.

Making a decision, he nodded to himself. "Mokuba," he said, "get on the trolley."

His brother stared at him. "_Nani_?" he exclaimed.

"Get on the trolley," Seto repeated. Grudgingly, it seemed, Mokuba climbed up onto the trolley, gripping the edges of the trunks underneath him. Carefully, Seto began to walk toward the barrier, refusing to show any outward signs of nervousness, though inside his chest, his heart was banging rapidly against his sternum. The front of the trolley pressed up against the barrier, and Seto held his breath, waiting…then, suddenly, the barrier dissolved. Seto dashed through it, and looked behind himself, only to see that the brick wall had turned into a high, vaulted arch that read, clearly, _Platform 9 ¾_. Hearing Mokuba gasp, Seto whipped around again to see the huge crimson red train huffing and puffing and belching out black smoke and white steam from two twin smokestacks on its engine. Raising an eyebrow, Seto started forwards again, absently nodding to Mokuba as the other babbled on about how awesome that had just been. Wheeling the trolley up to one of the boxcars he then began unloading it—handing Butterscotch and Chaos in their respective carriers to Mokuba, and taking the two trunks himself—and entered the train, immediately beginning the search for an unoccupied compartment.

Finally he found one and ushered Mokuba into it, then shut the compartment door behind them, and pushed the trunks under one of the seats, sitting on the one opposite and accepting Chaos' carrier from Mokuba.

"That was cool," Mokuba told him again, and Seto nodded wordlessly, unlocking the cat carrier and letting Chaos out, who meowed irritably as soon as she was free, and leapt up to her usual spot on Seto's shoulder, curling up and beginning to purr almost immediately. Absently, Seto stroked her back and reached over to open his trunk, removing his laptop and flipping it open. Mokuba groaned, and Seto's finger hovered over the power button, then pulled away.

"Alright," he said grudgingly, "fine. What do you want to do, then?"

"I don't know," Mokuba said. "Something normal?"

Seto's lips quirked upwards slightly. "Since when is any of _this_," he said, waving an arm about vaguely, "considered _normal_ by _any_ standard, Mokuba?" His brother grinned.

"Wizarding standards would probably consider this very normal," he said, and Seto rolled his eyes.

Suddenly the door to their compartment slid open, and Seto's eyes narrowed again as Harry Potter, Yuugi, Malik, and Ryö stepped into the compartment. "What are you doing here?" Seto asked. "Can't we have any privacy? And where's the rest of your little gang, Potter?"

"Every other compartment is full," Harry said calmly, lifting his trunk up into the overhead racks and helping Yuugi to do the same. "Ron and Hermione are in the prefect's compartment getting start-of-year instructions—they'll join us at lunch—and Ginny's in a compartment with some of her friends." The sixteen-year-old sat down, followed by the other three, and Seto looked longingly at his laptop. Mokuba caught his gaze and shook his head, and Seto sighed, turning to look out the window, feeling everyone else's eyes on his back and tensing up.

He watched as the British capital dissolved into lazy farms, and finally into typical English countryside, the other people in the compartment gradually beginning to chat amongst themselves; he stroked Chaos absently, thinking…. When the lunch trolley came by, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, Harry asked him, politely but awkwardly, whether he'd like something to eat, but he shook his head wordlessly. Ron and Hermione left after lunch, and Seto felt a brief sense of relief; their arrival had been closely followed by loud jokes and raucous laughter, mostly on the part of Ron. Finally, when the sky had started to darken and a quick glance at his watch revealed to Seto that it was nearly a quarter to eight, Harry stood up and suggested that, as they had about fifteen minutes until the train reached Hogwarts, they should probably change into their robes. Seto pulled his out of his trunk and eyed them with distaste. They looked too much like a dress to him. Eventually, he managed to get them on and then take off his shirt and pants without ever having to bare any skin, though it did require some awkward arm movements.

It was a long, tense few minutes before the train finally began to slow; seconds later, an announcement delivered in a cool female voice echoed through the train:

"_We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."_

A short while later, the train stopped, and Seto started towards the compartment door without bothering to put Chaos back into her carrier, which he'd shoved into his trunk, along with his laptop and clothes. However, before he could touch it, the door flew open, revealing the blond from Diagon Alley—Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?—and two other boys, both of them heavily-muscled. Quickly, Seto stepped in front of Mokuba, who had followed him, and glared at the strangers. Surprisingly, it was Harry who spoke first.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he growled, stepping up to the other.

"Down, Potter," the blond drawled, allowing his gaze to travel slowly over Yuugi, Malik and Ryö, who were standing behind Harry, then up to Seto, who could feel Mokuba clinging to his robes from behind, still unseen. "I just wanted to see Kaiba," he said, smirking.

"How do you know my name?" Seto asked sharply.

"I have my sources," Malfoy said. "But that's not important. What's important is that I kept my promise."

"What promise?" Seto snapped.

"I told you I'd be seeing you around," the other answered, then smirked. "I suspect we'll be seeing a lot more of each other," he said.

"Less than you might think," Seto retorted, fear and rage boiling in his veins.

"We'll see," Malfoy said, and left, taking his two cronies with him.

Seto glared after him, only starting forwards once Harry and the others had gone.

Outside, dusk cast strange, choppy shadows into the semi-darkness, and thousands of students milled about, chatting to one another and glancing about. Suddenly, a deep, rumbling voice overpowered the others: "Firs' years, firs' years o'er 'ere, firs' years!" Seto turned around to see a giant of a man holding a lantern up and waving. "Firs' years o'er 'ere!"

Mokuba looked up at Seto, and the elder Kaiba nodded, nudging him forward. He turned to follow Harry towards the top of the hill, where a long line of carriages being pulled by spooky-, reptilian-looking horses—_Thestrals,_ Seto thought to himself, _well, that's no surprise_—but the man calling to the first years suddenly shouted to him.

"Oi! You four!" He gestured towards Yuugi, Malik, Ryö and Seto, waving them over. "You're to come with me," he said. "The name's Hagrid." And, with one last call of _firs' years!_, he led them and the few hundred first years down a rocky path, at the end of which Seto could see the flickering black depths of what looked to be some sort of lake. "You'll be getting your first glimpse of Hogwarts, soon," the giant (Hagrid) informed them all, and, as they rounded a corner, suddenly everything came into view.

A gigantic castle loomed in front of them, its turrets swamped in a swirling darkness that Seto guessed was rain clouds. At its foot lay a vast, black lake, on the shore of which were about a hundred little rowboats, tiny little lanterns bobbing at their prows. Seto felt Mokuba reach for his hand, and glanced down to see the other's indigo eyes sparkling with childlike wonder in the near-starlight (it got dark a lot quicker, and a lot sooner, in the UK, than it did in Japan or the southern United States).

"It's got to be four time as big as our house!" Mokuba whispered to him. Seto scrutinized the castle carefully.

"Three and a half," he proclaimed. "Our house doesn't have turrets; the roof is flat."

Mokuba rolled his eyes as they started down the path towards the boats, but he was grinning.

"Now," Hagrid was saying, "no more'n four to a boat, and hold on to your pets! It looks like it might rain soon, so everyone try to be as quick as possible!"

Seto helped Mokuba into a boat and climbed in after him, frowning as Yuugi, Malik and Ryö got into the boat next to theirs. Then, when everyone had settled down, Hagrid tapped his boat and yelled "FORWARDS!", and the fleet started towards the castle.

It was fully dark and it had started to drizzle a little bit when they finally reached the other end of the lake, and when they entered the castle, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, sizzling as it discharged through the air, and a huge, rumbling crack of thunder rent the air as the downpour started. Seto smirked and shook water off his cloak. "Omen enough for you, Bakura?" he asked.

The other grinned, baring pointed canines, then blinked suddenly, changing back into Ryö. "Omen enough for _you_, Kaiba?" he asked; Seto raised an eyebrow.

"I don't believe in omens, Bakura," he said. "Only human intentions."

The other opened his mouth, as though he was going to say something, but another voice interrupted him, and the two turned back to the front.

"Welcome, new students," said a woman dressed in green robes, wire-y grey hair pulled back into a strict bun. "Welcome to Howarts. Please follow me into the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your new houses before the feast begins." She led the group to a set of gigantic doors, which swung open of their own accord, and marched towards a stool sitting right in the centre of the hall, with two tables on its right and two tables on its left, as well as a table right in front of it. And on the stool sat a tattered, dirty old black hat like the ones in old stories about witches. Suddenly, a hole near the brim opened into a mouth, and the hat burst into song:

"_Travel back a thousand years in time  
To this very place  
And you will find founders four  
Whose names you can't erase_

"_They made me to divide you  
According to your minds  
Whether brave or scheming, loyal or cunning  
The sorting hat, this he finds_

"_Do you belong in Gryffindor  
Where dwell the brave of heart  
Hear the lion's mighty roar!  
See crimson and bright gold, of which you are a part_

"_Maybe your place is Slytherin  
Here live those with great ambition  
The snake lives on within you  
Emerald green and silver will guide you on your mission_

"_Or are you found in Hufflepuff  
With those of loyal countenance  
And a badger's potent paw  
Cloaked in black and yellow, without a touch of arrogance_

"_Perhaps you are a Ravenclaw  
With a mind that's sharp and quick  
Here eagles soar  
And bronze and blue will keep your psyche slick_

"_For many years this plan seemed grand  
Mere mortals could see no flaws  
But after years of rivalry, the cracks began to show  
And houses sprouted walls_

"_And now with evil from without  
It's time to bond within  
Though houses four they may be  
All humans are made akin!"_

For several seconds silence reigned, but then the hall burst into applause that seemed to last for forever. Finally, it died down, and the woman in green robes stepped forward, waving her wand and snatching a long scroll of parchment out of midair—Seto caught several gasps from the first years around him—and began to read from the list.

"Abbot, Tom!" she called, and a tiny, trembling boy walked forward to sit on the stool. The woman picked up the hat by its point and put it on the boy's head. There was silence for a few seconds, and then…:

"HUFFLEPUFF!" yelled the hat, and the table to the immediate left of the hat erupted into cheers, several students jumping up to pat their new housemate on the back as he joined them, looking stunned.

"Abercrombie, Sara!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Abotts, Clara!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

And so it went for several minutes, until, "Kaiba, Mokuba!" the woman in green called, and Seto nudged Mokuba forward. He watched as Mokuba took his seat on the stool and the woman put the hat on his head (it nearly fell to his nose), and grinned at the hat's exclamation.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat yelled, and Seto clapped as the table to the far left of the hat began cheering. Mokuba hopped off the stool and ran off to join them, and Seto watched as the Potter boy moved over to offer Mokuba a seat on the bench next to him, grinning.

The rest of the sorting took much longer, and Seto was feeling slightly impatient by the time Zambini, Brook (Slytherin) was called, and the woman in green rolled up her parchment.

"And now," she said, "would the students of Hogwarts please welcome four new exchange students from Japan—"

The hall erupted into chatter. Whispers spread like wildfire, heads turning to stare, and Seto felt himself falling into his familiar defensive stance, arms crossing over his chest and eyebrows slanting downwards angrily.

"SILENCE!" the woman barked, and the hall fell into quiet, only the occasional whisper punctuating the silence. "Now," the woman began again, "as I was saying—"

This time, it was the hat on the stool that interrupted her. People stared as it burst into song yet again, and the words echoed around the hall:

"_And now we welcome four new pupils  
Into Hogwarts' grand halls  
Both the foretold and the forewarned  
Here, they begin a deathly waltz_

"_One is noble, strong and true  
Looks can be deceiving  
Good Gryffindor, he tips his hat  
To this one, always believing_

"_Two is sharp and calculating  
What hides behind his grin?  
Shrewd Slytherin, he steps aside  
To let this new pupil in_

"_Three is loyal, he does not judge  
Though he has another side  
Dear Hufflepuff, she claims another  
With whom to coincide_

"_Four is clever, shrewd and quick  
They say he's complicated, eh!  
Quick Ravenclaw, she bows towards  
Her newest protégé_

"_And though I'm condemned to split you  
Don't let your friendships fail  
Oh, for if you hold them strong against your foes  
Then our Hogwarts cannot pale!"_

Silence remained heavy and stifling, like a cloak draped over everyone there, until the woman finally broke it again. "New to sixth year," she called, "Bakura, Ryö!"

Ryö stepped forward and sat on the stool. The hat slipped over his head, immediately exclaiming "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Ishtal, Malik!" the woman called, once the Hufflepuff table had quieted.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Mutö, Yuugi!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall fell silent again, everyone staring at Seto. "And finally," the woman said, "new to fifth year at Hogwarts is Kaiba, Seto!"

Seto stepped forward, ignoring the fact that each footstep seemed to echo in the silence, and that it seemed to take forever to reach the stool. The sorting hat slipped over his head, and he started inwardly as a voice sounded in his mind.

"You are the complicated on, aren't you?" the voice asked, and Seto realized that it sounded like the hat. "Just like the song, hmm…qualities from all four houses…. Loyalty, from Hufflepuff, but I think not; bravery, from Gryffindor, of course, but no…ambition, from Slytherin, but, of course, there's only one place to put you, according to prophecy…RAVENCLAW!" The hat was pulled off his head, and Seto, walking over to the table to the right of the hat, caught the eye of one of the people sitting at the head table:

It was Bill.

"_I'll see you later."_ The words echoed in his mind, their meaning now clear, and as he took his seat at the Ravenclaw table, he felt like he didn't know what to think.

**to be continued…**

_A few notes for after the fic: 1) Yes, the item regarding the origination of Seto's name is true, and 2) I don't care WHAT impression the movies give you: they don't wear pants and shirts under their robes! Source, look into book four, where the wizard Archie claims he likes a "healthy breeze around his privates, thanks!", and all the times when they say they need to CHANGE INTO THEIR ROBES. Stupid movies…. Oh, and yes, I know that my sorting songs suck. I can't rhyme, so what, bite me. Rawr._


	12. XI: Of Quidditch and Duelling

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Eleven: Of Quidditch and Duelling**

**.nachzes black-rider**

Harry awoke the next morning surprisingly early. After the feast had ended sometime near midnight, Harry had stumbled back to his dormitory in a state of lethargic, over-fed, half-consciousness; he had been asleep before his head hit the pillow. But his sleep was broken, punctuated by confusing dreams—spin-offs of the sorting hat's second song, haunted by snapshots of the night at the Ministry and Voldemort in the graveyard—and restless tossing and turning. And so it was that he rolled out of his bed at a quarter to six in the morning, and staggered down to the common room, still half-asleep. At first, he didn't see the small figure curled up in one of the plush armchairs in front of the dying fire, but Mokuba's "Hi, Harry" made him squint blearily at the eleven-year-old and nod, yawning.

"M—morning, Mokuba," Harry replied, holding his glasses with one hand while he rubbed sleep from his eyes with the other. "How're you?" he asked, sinking down onto a large red armchair opposite Mokuba's.

Mokuba shrugged, a tiny smile on his lips. "Okay, I guess," he said. "It's a little weird…having so many people around and not being able to find Seto whenever I want to."

"Maybe you'll see him at b—breakfast," Harry yawned.

"Seto doesn't eat breakfast," was the response.

"Why?" Harry asked, confused. "In England, everybody eats breakfast. I mean," he said, hastening to explain, "it's the most important meal of the day, right?"

Mokuba shrugged again and glanced away. "Seto doesn't," he said. "He starts work at five in the morning, so that he can get some done before school, and he usually just drinks coffee there. He doesn't eat until supper, most of the time, because he spends his lunch hour in the library at school. A lot of the time, he's not home until late, because he gets called to work after school."

Harry was taken aback by this information. "So he just…doesn't eat?" he asked.

"He eats," Mokuba corrected. "Just not as much as he should, maybe." He sounded uncomfortable, and Harry realized that he was trying to be answer the other's questions without appearing to be disapproving of his brother. Hurriedly, Harry tried to backtrack.

"Well, okay, I guess…umm…how're you liking Hogwarts?" he asked.

Mokuba shrugged again, and took a while before answering. "It's alright," he said finally. Harry waited for the rest of his answer for several seconds before he realized that that was all Mokuba intended on saying. He suddenly thought that though Mokuba looked cute and talkative next to his older brother, he was really far from the innocent, stereotypical eleven-year-old most people thought him to be. Or maybe Mokuba just wasn't a morning person; Harry wasn't sure.

Feeling awkward, he glanced around, eyes stilling on the clock above the mantelpiece: a quarter past six. "The house-elves should have breakfast ready," he said, standing; Mokuba glanced up at him, and he shifted uncomfortably. "Umm…want to join me?" he asked.

Mokuba shrugged. "Might as well," he said, standing as well and following as Harry led the way to the great hall, where, sure enough, the four house tables were covered with stacks of toast, jars of jams and marmalades, platters of bacon, eggs, sausages and kippers, cauldrons of porridge, and jugs of pumpkin juice and coffee. Harry loaded his plate with food, watching as Mokuba only picked at his own.

"What's wrong?" he asked, loading his fork with eggs.

"Nothing," Mokuba said quickly, as though trying to reassure him. "It's just that we don't eat…this…" he gestured vaguely, "in Japan."

"What do you eat?" came Ron's familiar voice as he sat down, joined by Hermione. "Hey, Harry," he added, and Harry nodded.

"Soup," Mokuba said, taking a cautious taste of porridge. "Red bean soup, a lot of the time. With rice. It's easy for Seto to make before he leaves in the morning, and quick for me to re-heat."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, confused. "If he has time to make you breakfast, how come he doesn't eat any?"

Mokuba shrugged, silent again.

"Kaiba doesn't eat _breakfast_?" Ron exclaimed, his mouth full. Hermione tried to shush him, but Mokuba beat her to it.

"He doesn't eat lunch, either," he retorted scathingly, "but at least he doesn't make a pig out of himself, unlike some people."

Ron shut up, his ears turning red.

"Mokuba," Harry said lowly, "Ron didn't mean—he was just—it's just…shocking, I guess, that your brother doesn't, well, _eat_. Much."

The eleven-year-old glared at him. "You've been living with him for almost two months," he snapped. "You'd think you would have been able to figure it out!" And slamming his spoon down on the table, he left.

"Touchy," Ron said, watching him go.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, glaring at him.

"Well he is! He's a touchy little piece of—"

"You insulted his brother, the only family he has, and you expect him to just sit there and _take_ it?" Hermione ranted. "When Malfoy says something like that to you, you try to punch him! And he's been saying stuff like that to you for almost six years! You'd think you'd be used to it! Mokuba's only been here a day, and already people he thought were his friends are turning on him! Now go apologize!"

Ron grumbled and pushed his plate away, standing up and running after Mokuba's retreating form. "Oi! Mokuba!" he yelled, "Wait up!" Mokuba started to walk faster; Ron gestured frustrated at him, but Hermione just glared at him, mouthing _GO!_ Ron rolled his eyes, but called out again all the same. "_Please_ wait up!" he yelled, and Mokuba slowed, then stopped, turning around, in a pose that strongly reminded Harry of Kaiba.

"What do you want?" he asked, not bothering to keep his voice down as Ron approached him.

"To apologize," Ron said, sounding as though it pained him to say it. "I shouldn't have said that about your brother, and I'm sorry if I offended you." Mokuba looked at him. Slowly, the silence began to grow uncomfortable. Harry squirmed, watching Ron shift nervously.

Finally, Mokuba spoke. "I don't believe you," he said simply, and turned to walk away again.

"Oi!" Ron said, "I apologized!"

"Yes, but you didn't mean it," Mokuba said. "Don't say you're sorry if you're not; the words are meant to be a pact, a promise that you _are_ sorry, and that you'll _try_ not to do it again. If you don't _mean_ it, it doesn't count."

Ron stared. Mokuba stood there, looking at him; Harry had the impression that he was waiting for something. Finally, Ron spoke again. "I'm sorry," he said, and this time it sounded genuine. "I really am," he added. Mokuba nodded.

"I believe you," he said.

Ron sighed and walked back to the table, flopping down in his seat and resting his forehead on the tabletop. "It's too early for this," he moaned.

"It's almost seven," Mokuba said matter-of-factly, sitting back down beside Harry.

"Seven?" Hermione exclaimed, looking up from the textbook that she was reading. "That means schedules are coming soon!" She looked up at the ceiling expectantly.

"How—" Mokuba began, but was cut off as a flurry of owls suddenly came flying into the hall, four of the birds gliding gently down to land in front of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mokuba. Reaching out to the one that had landed in the middle of his breakfast, Harry took the piece of parchment from its beak, and flipped it over. He groaned.

"What?" Hermione said, peering at his schedule.

"Double NEWT Potions first thing," he said, pointing.

"We're in it together, then," Hermione said, glancing at the parchment. "It doesn't say what house we're in there with, though."

"They've probably combined all the houses together," Harry said glumly. "I mean, Snape only takes those who get Outstanding on their OWLs into his NEWT-level class, right…." He trailed off, thinking. "I didn't get an _O_," he said finally. "I got an _E_ on my OWL for Potions."

"Let me see that!" Ron exclaimed, grabbing Harry's schedule and peering at it. "Yup," he said finally, "Double Potions, first thing Monday, Wednesday, and Friday." He looked closer, and gave a delighted whoop. "We get Saturdays off this year!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Harry seized his schedule and squinted at it. "We do!" he said, "Hermione, we have Saturdays off this year!"

"And you'll use them to do your homework, instead of copying mine, right?" Hermione said sternly.

"I don't know about you, Harry, but I'm using mine for Quidditch practice," Ron said. Hermione glared at him over the top of her schedule, but Harry grinned.

"Doesn't having Quidditch teams for each of the houses sort of counteract the whole point of 'bonding together from within'?" Mokuba asked, and the other three turned to look at him.

"Blimey," Ron said, "he sounds like Hermione. Quoting the hat and everything!"

"Well he's right," Hermione said, voice defensive.

"Isn't your brother going to try out for the Ravenclaw team?" Harry asked. "He did buy that Firefly broom in Diagon Alley."

Mokuba grimaced. "My brother doesn't give a damn about bonding from within; he says that if the people here aren't smart enough to do it _with_ some friendly inter-house competition, then they don't stand a chance against Voldemort anyways, and should just hand the school over on a silver platter." He paused, a contemplative expression dawning on him. "I think he just wants an excuse to try to beat Harry," he said.

Harry choked on his mouthful of pumpkin juice. "What?" he said, spluttering.

"He wants to prove that he's better than you. Think about it. You're both prophesized; you're both orphans; you're both famous; you're both wanted by Voldemort. He wants to exert his independence." Mokuba shrugged, taking a bite of porridge. "It's a Kaiba thing."

"He can't beat Harry," Ron said confidently.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mokuba said. "Thinking you're invincible is a sure-fire way to set yourself up for failure."

"Who taught you that?" Harry asked, curious.

"Seto," Mokuba said.

Ron grumbled. "Big words from him," he said.

"Seto knows he's not invincible," Mokuba said. "His fault is in expecting himself to be perfect."

"But nobody's perfect," Hermione said.

"Lucky Nobody," Mokuba said cryptically.

**-o-**

Harry's second, and last, class that day was double Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. As Harry filed in with Hermione and Ron, Bill grinned at him from his seat on the desk. "Ronnykins," he said, nodding to his youngest brother.

"Shut up," Ron hissed, his ears turning red, "_William_."

"Watch it," Bill said, waggling his wand at the other, one perfectly-arched ginger eyebrow raised. "I am your teacher. You might get detention."

"Ooh, I'm so scared," Ron said, glaring at the other and taking a seat next to Harry, who was grinning. "I swear I could hex him," Ron muttered. "He's been so cocky ever since he saved Mokuba…. And every time Kaiba so much as looks at him, he practically levitates—" he was cut off by the loud, gonging bell signalling the beginning of class; the students fell silent with a slight hush, and Bill grinned, waving from where he sat, still on the desk.

"Hello," he said, "and welcome to NEWT-level Defence Against the Dark Arts. My name is Bill Weasley" (he flicked his wand at the blackboard, and the chalk hopped up, scribbling the name) "and I will be your professor this year." The chalk dropped back into place, and Bill grinned. "Now, from what I hear, your professor last year was a scam—"

There was a loud chorus of cheers from half of the class, while the Slytherin half, especially Malfoy, looked slightly sulky.

"—so you'll all have a lot to catch up on," Bill said. There was a long groan, and Bill held up a hand. "But," he said, "I'll try to make it as fun as possible. And, since, from what I hear, some of you are particularly well-versed in this subject area—thanks to a certain illegal organization run by a student here last year—if you can prove that you can do a spell, you can collect any other assignments from me, and you're free to go." There was another loud cheer, and Bill stood up. "Now," he said, flicking his wand at the chalk again, "I have three rules for this class. One: Respect yourself. Two: respect everyone else. And three: have fun. NEWT-level courses are the hardest ones in Hogwarts; if you don't enjoy what you're learning in this course, you shouldn't be taking it. So, let's hear what you'd most like to cover this year. …Yes, Mr. Finnigan," he said, pointing to Seamus.

"Could we work on Patronuses?" Seamus asked. "Harry was teaching us how in the DA last year, but I didn't really get the hang of the charm…."

"Perhaps a little later, yes," Bill said. "We have to teach to the people who don't know charms more basic than the Patronus Charm, as well. Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville put his hand down. "Duelling?" he asked, "In general?"

"Ah, now here is a good thing to start with," Bill said, sitting back up on his desk. "Helps me understand where your skill levels are. Now, everyone please stand in the middle of the room." The students obeyed, clambering out of their desks and going to mill around in the centre of the room. Bill waved his wand, and the desks flew to the sides of the classroom. "Now," he said over the chattering, "I'm going to give you a number, either a one or a two. Ones, please go to the left; twos, please go to the right." He flicked his wand again, numbers shooting out of the tip and affixing themselves to the students' shirts. There was a lull, and then everyone had lined up along their respective walls.

"Okay," Bill said, "Now will the first pair step to the centre, please. The pair closest to me," he said. Dean Thomas and Hermione stepped forward, and Bill nodded. "Okay," he said, now Miss. Granger, you go to that end of the aisle, and Mr. Thomas, you stay here; you bow; and then, on the count of three, you cast your spell. Remember, react to disarm only!"

Nearly two hours later, when Harry and his partner (who had turned out to be Malik), the last of the pairs, had gone twice, Bill called a halt to the duelling.

"You've all done well," he said. "I've got a good idea of where to start the class off next day; thank you again for the idea, Mr. Longbottom." Neville blushed, and muttered something, and Harry patted him on the back, grinning.

"Now," Bill continued, "I want you all to remember what you had difficulty with, and practice it for next class." The gonging bell rang, and Bill called over it, yelling, "HAVE FUN!" after them all as they left.

"Have you ever had such a so obviously gay teacher?" Harry turned, glaring at Malfoy, who was talking to another Slytherin boy. Malfoy smirked back, and Harry felt Ron stiffen beside him.

"Ron," Hermione said under her breath warningly, "don't do anything stupid."

"He had," Ron growled, "a fiancée. Until your _father_ killed her!"

Malfoy's smirk widened. "Tut tut, Weasel-King," he said, "temper, temper."

Ron reached for his wand, Harry following suite, but a voice from behind stopped them both.

"I'll handle this," it said, and Seto Kaiba stepped through the crowd that had begun to form around the group of three boys, the smirk on his lips rivalling Malfoy's. "Now," he said, "if I remember correctly, we bow." He pulled out his wand and gave Malfoy a mocking bow. The other remained stiff.

"You can't be serious," he sneered. "You honestly think _you_ can beat _me_? You just started yesterday! You're as good as a first year!"

"We'll let the others judge that," Kaiba replied smoothly. "Now, are you going to accept my challenge, or not?"

"Fine," Malfoy spat.

"Kaiba, you can't!" Harry said. "Malfoy's right; it's not fair!"

"Again, we'll let the others judge that, Potter," Kaiba said without looking at Harry. "Now, Malfoy, we bow, and if someone will begin the countdown for us…."

And then, to Harry's even greater surprise, Malik with stepped out from the crowd. "I'll do it," he said. Kaiba nodded, and glanced at Malfoy, who gave a curt nod as well. "Okay," the Malik said. "On three. One, two, THREE!"

"_STUPEFY_!" Kaiba yelled, just as Malfoy shouted "_IMPEDIMENTA_!" Red light shot from both wands, but before Harry could blink, Kaiba had shouted something else, and a shield shot out around him, repelling Malfoy's curse harmlessly into the air. There was a _thud_ as Malfoy's unconscious form hit the floor, wand held limply in his hand, and Kaiba pocketed his wand, smirking.

"Seto Kaiba," Bill Weasley drawled from where he was standing in the doorway of his classroom, leaving casually against the frame, "twenty points from Ravenclaw for unsafe duelling, and in the halls at that, and detention on Saturday night." He grinned, and Harry swore he caught a wink. "Remember to have fun," the redhead said, and stepped back into his classroom, letting the door fall shut behind him.

"Wow, Kaiba, what was that?" Ron asked, and Kaiba smirked.

"Duelling," he said, and left accompanied by Malik, robes swishing in the air as he disappeared around the corner.

Ron looked at Harry. "You were right," he said, looking down at the unconscious Malfoy and nudging his limp torso with the toe of his trainer.

"I was?" Harry said, confused.

"Yeah. You said it wasn't fair, and it wasn't." Ron chuckled. "Malfoy never knew what hit him."

**° ¥ ° **

Once out of earshot of the rest of their classmates, Malik turned to Kaiba and grinned. "Smooth, Kaiba," he said cheekily, hoping to get a rise out of the other. "Very smooth. A nice way to avoid attention."

Smirking down at him, Kaiba replied, "Who says I was trying to avoid attention?"

Malik shook his index finger at the other, adopting a feigned expression of condemnation. "You're not supposed to be drawing unnecessary attention to yourself, remember?" he said mock-sternly. He puffed out his chest. "Dumbledore said so."

Kaiba snorted. "Dumbledore can piss off; I'm not going to stand by and listen to that spoiled little deatheater mouth off without a reason."

Malik shrugged. "You know what they say, Kaiba," he said. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Knocking somebody out in the middle of the hallway in front of a bunch of onlookers is not exactly keeping your enemy close…." He shrugged as Kaiba glared at him. "Just a thought," he said, and sauntered off, grinning, leaving Kaiba to frown after him.

"Ishtal!" He swung around again, and Kaiba smirked at him. "Since when have I cared what others say?"

It was Malik's turn to frown as the other swept away, and as he watched Kaiba vanish around a corner, he felt as though the young CEO was smarter than others gave him credit for.

**° ¥ ° **

The next two weeks were devoid of the excitement that had marked the first day of classes, but Harry heard the story of Kaiba duelling Malfoy recited so many times and with such fabrication, that it was laughable. He'd even heard one rendition of the story where Kaiba had blown Malfoy's head off; he only wished it were true. Since the duelling incident, Malfoy had been acting up more and more in Bill's class, and though the redhead ignored the jibes, Harry knew he heard them. Still, with a regular schedule once more, and no more threatening dreams to keep him awake at night, Harry felt himself falling back into the same old routine that dominated his years at Hogwarts; it seemed that the only thing he had to look forward to were Quidditch tryouts on the fifteenth, and when the chill September day dawned, Harry awoke bright and early, ready to take on his new duties as captain.

He already knew that they needed two more Chasers, as Katie and Angelina had both left, and though he knew that Ginny would probably make one of the spots, he had no idea who would try out for the second one.

Shrugging into his Quidditch uniform, he pulled his Firebolt out of his trunk, and hurried out to the Quidditch pitch. Gryffindor tryouts were to be held first, at nine o'clock, with Hufflepuff's starting at twelve, Ravenclaw's at three (ending at six), and Slytherin's were scheduled to begin at eight in the evening, ending at eleven. Harry, though he had three hours to lead tryouts for two vacant spots, wanted to squeeze in a short practice, as well, to see how well the new players would work with the rest of the Gryffindor team. He sat in the stands as he waited for his team mates and the others to arrive, absently plotting strategies as he munched on toast.

"Hey, Harry," he heard, and turned to see Luna Lovegood staring at him with her large, protuberant grey eyes.

"Yeah, Luna?" he asked.

"I was just wondering if you were going to start the DA up again this year," she said. "Neville and all the other people I've talked to would like it, and there are some new people interested in it. I told them I'd ask you when the first meeting was going to be." She sat down next to him, still staring, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Err…well, Luna, I hadn't really thought of it that much. I mean…Umbridge isn't here anymore, and Bill—er, Professor Weasley, that is—he's a really good teacher, so I didn't really think that we'd need it…."

"But He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is still out there," Luna pointed out, "and regular class work isn't going to cut it against him. What about the new first years?"

Mokuba flashed through Harry's mind, and he shivered, suddenly not hungry anymore. He pushed his toast away, frowning. "I'll think about it, Luna," he said.

"Thanks, Harry," Luna said, standing up again and flouncing off, butterbeer cork necklace swinging wildly.

Harry spent the next few minutes before nine o'clock hit thinking. It was true that they no longer needed the DA, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't have the time. The last year had been busier, though near the end he'd no longer had Quidditch to worry about, and definitely not the extra duties as captain.

_Still,_ he thought, _it would be fun; and we wouldn't have to worry about hiding it from anybody. And Luna's right…Voldemort's not going anywhere._ He frowned absently, but a yell caught his attention.

"Oi! Harry!"

Harry looked down at Ron's voice, and grinned at the sight of the people milling about down below. He grabbed his broom and flew down from the stands, touching down easily beside his best friend. "Alright," he said, "thanks to everyone for coming. Now, we only have two spots open, Chaser positions, so the tryouts shouldn't last long. I want to squeeze in a quick practice afterwards, just to see how the new players get along with the rest of the team in the air, and to get a head start on the rest of the house teams. Now, lets get going! People who are here to try out, please take a seat in the stands; we'll call you out two at a time. My team, grab your brooms."

An hour and a half later, Harry had made his choice; after putting the forty or so people who had shown up through a rigorous training routine to test them, he'd managed to narrow it down to two. The crowd of students looked at him eagerly, awaiting his decision, and he grit his teeth. How the captains before him had done it, he didn't know.

"Alright," he said finally, "you've all done very well, and you've all shown terrific support for Gryffindor by showing up—here's hoping you'll cheer us on in the Quidditch season this year!" He cleared his throat; this was the part he'd been dreading, telling the people who had made it and who hadn't. "Err…the new Gryffindor Chasers for this year are Ginny Weasley and Patrick Bennett," he said.

The crowd milled about congratulating the new team members, finally dispersing. Harry sighed in relief that nobody had accused him of favouritism, and turned to his team. "Okay," he said, "we have an hour and fifteen minutes left to practice; let's see what you guys can do after a lazy summer."

**-o-**

—**_Dreamscape—_**

_**Harry was flying. He was in the Quidditch stadium, and it was storming; he could barely see with his glasses on, but when he squinted, he swore he could see something through the mist. There was a shout, and the vague shapes of the stands loomed out of the fug, and Harry could see a huge black dog sitting on the top bench, yellow eyes watching him….**_

_**Suddenly, a Dementor appeared in front of him, and a woman screamed. "HARRY, NO!" a man yelled, and he was falling….**_

_**He was in the Department of Mysteries, floating down the hall. He whipped through vaguely-remembered rooms, and finally into the room with the raised dais in the centre. It was filled with people, streaks of coloured light bouncing all over the place. Harry looked around frantically. He needed to find someone…needed to see something…there was a yell of triumph behind him, and he whipped around to see Sirius, face still frozen in a twisted combination of surprise and laughter, disappear behind the veil again. "NO!" he yelled, struggling against arms that suddenly held him fast. "NO! SIRIUS!"**_

_**The arms suddenly dissolved, and two figures floated up from glowing spheres that had just shattered in front of him: an old man and a woman covered in a gauzy shawl, eyes closed.**_

"**And at the solstice will come a new…"**

"…**and none will come after…_."_**

"**_But what do you _mean_?" Harry demanded, but the figures disappeared into thin air, like wisps of smoke, and silence rang in his ears…. _**

_**Storming forward, Harry ripped the black veil aside, stepping through the archway, but only pitch darkness and silence met him….**_

—**_End dreamscape—_**

"Sirius!" Harry yelled, sitting bolt upright in his four poster bed. There was the sound of hangings being torn open, and Ron's worried face peered at him.

"What's wrong, mate?" he asked urgently.

"I just…had another one of those dreams," Harry panted. "With Sirius and the veil, I mean…."

Ron looked concerned. "D'you think you should tell Dumbledore about this one, too?"

"I told him about the last one," Harry said, "and he didn't think much of it."

"But if it's happening more than once…" Ron trailed off, frowning. "What was this one like?" he asked.

"It started with that Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in third year, where I saw Padfoot in the stands…then the Dementor jumped in front of me, and I fell into the Department of Mysteries…." Harry described the rest of the dream to his friend, being extra specific about the last part with the prophecies. "It's too bad they broke," he said. "I have a feeling that what's in them is really important this year…." He kneaded his forehead with his knuckles, trying to force himself to think.

"Dumbledore would want to know about this, mate," Ron said, and Harry nodded absently.

"I'll tell him after the Quidditch match," he said, feeling slightly sullen. Thinking about Sirius usually did that do him, he'd noticed.

Ron grinned. "I hope Ravenclaw kicks some Slytherin butt," he said, "even if it is Cho who's playing."

Harry grimaced. "She got back on the team?" he asked, "After her fit at last year's final?"

"Well that's it, isn't it?" Ron said, "Nobody knows, do they? The Ravenclaws haven't let on as to who their new captain _or_ Seeker is. Haven't said a thing."

"Well," Harry said, climbing out of his bed and pulling on a pair of socks and his robes, "I suppose we might as well go and get early seats; the team might be practicing. We'd get a good look at some of their moves, and we're up against them next."

"Yeah," Ron said, but he looked strangely preoccupied. "Yeah, let's. Come on, we'll go get some toast."

**-o-**

To Harry's surprise, the Ravenclaw team wasn't out practicing. He did see several others in the stands, however; Luna was sitting a few benches up, reading the Quibbler and wearing the massive eagle hat that she'd created last year. Looking at her, Harry thought for a bit, then got up and went over to her. "Hey Luna," he said. She looked up at him.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said, turning back to her magazine.

"Err…I was thinking," he said, "about the DA and all…did you have a place in mind to hold the meetings? I mean, the Room of Requirement is great and all, but it takes a while to get into. We want a room that's easily accessible, don't we."

Luna beamed at him. "I did have a room in mind, actually," she said. "Neville suggested Professor Weasley's classroom, actually, and he thought it was a great idea."

Harry blinked. "You talked to Professor Weasley?" he said, the words weird on his tongue. Luna nodded.

"He said that, if you decided to continue with the DA, that is, you were welcome to use his classroom any time you want," she said. Her protuberant eyes grew thoughtful as she said, "I think that Mr. Weasley is a much better teacher than Umbridge, even if the Slytherin's don't like him because he's gay."

Harry stared. Finally, he managed to get his voice to work. "What?" he choked, glancing at Ron, who had joined them when his brother had come up.

"You haven't heard the rumours?" Luna asked, looking surprised.

Harry and Ron traded dark looks, the former glancing around at the stadium as the stands started to fill up; the match was going to start soon, then. "No," Harry said, as Ron muttered "Bloody Malfoy" under his breath.

"Oh," Luna said, blinking. "Well then, now you know," she said, going back to the Quibbler again.

Harry and Ron scrambled back to their seats, the latter's ears burning red. "That bastard Malfoy," Ron hissed, "he's just doing this because he can't get a rise out of Bill in class. Wait'll I get my hands on him…."

"Ron," Harry said weakly, peering down onto the Quidditch pitch, "look."

"What?" Ron blurted, following Harry's extended index finger to the unmistakable figure walking at the rear of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, holding his Firefly in one hand. "Bloody Hell," Ron whispered, "he made _Seeker_!" He sat back, looking slightly disgruntled. "It's got to be the broom," he muttered. "There's no way he could've gotten that good in just a month.

Harry didn't say anything to contradict Ron's point, but, thinking back to the duel between Kaiba and Malfoy on the first day, he got the impression that Kaiba learned things very quickly indeed.

A breathless voice sounded beside him, alerting him to another's presence. "Hi, Harry," Mokuba said. "Can I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside Harry. The elder nodded.

"Go ahead," he said, then paused. "Hey, Mokuba," he said, "did you know your brother made the Ravenclaw Quidditch team?"

"Of course," Mokuba said, sitting down and peering down onto the pitch. Harry exchanged a look with Ron, but they snapped to attention, along with the other spectators, as Madam Hooch's voice rang through the stadium.

"Will the captains please shake hands," she said, and Harry watched as Roger Davies—a seventh-year now; he'd be leaving next year—stepped forward to shake hands with Malfoy. "Players, mount your brooms," Madam Hooch said when the captains stopped trying to crush each others' hands. "And on the sound of my whistle, now…." A sharp _tweet!_ rang through the air, and the players shot up into the air, accompanied by the two Bludgers and the Snitch, which zipped around the Slytherin goal hoops and then moved off so fast that Harry lost sight of it. The six Chasers gathering in a circle in the middle, and Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air….

"And it's Davies with the Quaffle," came a familiar voice from the stands, and Harry looked over to see Dean commenting in place of Lee Jordan, who had graduated last year. "Davies passes to Stewart, who passes to Davies…Davies shoots…HE SCORES! TEN POINTS FOR RAVENCLAW"

A great cheer went up from the stands, Luna's eagle hat raising its wings and screaming.

"And Ravenclaw's back in possession of the Quaffle again, with Taylor preparing to shoot…he shoots…HE—he's missed it, people; the shot is blocked by Slytherin, and now it's Morgan with the Quaffle…."

A half hour went by, with Davies from Ravenclaw scoring once more, but Slytherin's Chasers managed to get six goals past the Ravenclaw Keeper, and the fans in the stands were looking nervous. Malfoy had almost caught the Snitch twice, while Kaiba just circled around the stadium over and over, taking his time as he did so.

"What's he doing?" Ron whispered to Harry, who, frowning, shrugged. Mokuba just smiled knowingly, but said nothing; Harry's frown deepened. Kaiba wasn't stupid…he had a strategy…but why wasn't he trying to scare Slytherin with his top-of-the-line broom? Harry had thought that would be his style, but he just stayed up there, circling…he reminded Harry of a bird of prey….

And then, suddenly, Kaiba took off, aiming toward the ground, Malfoy struggling to catch up with him on his slower broom, but slowly and surely gaining on the other. Harry frowned. "That's not right…" he said slowly, realizing something. "Kaiba's feinting!" he exclaimed, keeping his voice down; sure enough, just as he neared two feet from the ground, Kaiba pulled out of his dive, spiralling upward and watching as Malfoy collided with the ground with a sick-sounding _thud_.

"And the Slytherin team calls a time-out to attend to their Seeker," Dean said over the magical megaphone, "who has just been duped by a magnificent Wronskei Feint pulled off by fifth year Seto Kaiba of Ravenclaw, new to the school from Japan."

"How did you know he was feinting?" Ron asked, turning to Harry. "I swear to God, it looked like he'd seen the Snitch!"

Harry grinned. "If Kaiba had seen the Snitch, he would have been going as fast as he could; Malfoy never would have been able to catch up with him, never mind overtake him!"

"Observant," Harry heard, and he whipped around to see Bill, who had been sitting behind him, grinning.

"You knew he was going to do that," Harry said slowly. Bill's grin widened.

"It's a perfectly legitimate way of getting revenge," Bill said. "He's not cheating; he's not roughhousing; he's _playing Quidditch_. And very well, at that."

"You're _evil_," Harry said, grinning.

"Seto thought it up," Mokuba said from beside Harry, his tone defensive.

"Yeah, but we knew Kaiba was evil already," Ron said, waving the smaller boy's protests aside. "Bill, now, _this_ is new." He rubbed his hands together, smiling happily. "Oh, wait 'till I tell mom…her precious First Born has gone over to the dark side!" He laughed when Bill made a face at him. "I can hear her now," Ron laughed, imitating his mother's voice, "'Oh no, not William! He was Head Boy!'"

"William?" Mokuba was looking at Bill curiously. Bill sighed.

"It's my full name," he said. Mokuba looked interested.

"Why don't you use it?"

"Because it's so…_stuffy_," Bill said, making a face. Harry laughed. "_All_ our names are stuffy, except for Fred and George, the lucky gits! There's me: I'm William; Charlie's real name is Charles; Ron's is Ronald; and Ginny is Geraldine."

Mokuba shrugged and looked towards the Quidditch pitch again, where Madam Pomfrey was flitting around Malfoy. "I kind of like it," he said.

"Why?" Harry asked, curious.

"Well, it means 'desire to protect', right?" Mokuba said. "Or, if you want, you can separate its components, so 'desire' and 'protection'." He shrugged. "I think it's a cool name. And it fits, too."

"How?" Bill asked.

Mokuba looked at him, plainly exasperated. "Remember the little 'idiotic vigilante' act you pulled this summer?"

"Oh. That." Bill sounded uncomfortable, and Mokuba rolled his eyes.

"Yes. That," he said.

"Oi! The game's about to start again!" Ron called, and everyone turned back to the Quidditch pitch, where Malfoy was climbing slightly-dazedly back onto his broom, Kaiba circling lazily around the stadium again.

"And they're off!" Dean said, to a roar from the fans. "And it's Davies with the Quaffle…."

The Ravenclaw team seemed to be getting their edge back, and they whipped through the air like sky blue blurs; Kaiba was the only one clearly visible, still circling around the pitch, occasionally doubling back around a set of goal hoops. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, without much incident, other than Ravenclaw scraping five more goals, putting them ten points ahead of Slytherin. Luna's eagle hat screamed again, loudly, and Harry watched, tense, as Kaiba doubled back again, around the Slytherin hoops, startling their Keeper.

"And it looks like Malfoy's seen the Snitch!" Dean yelled, the fans decked out in green and silver cheering loudly as the blond went into a dive. Harry frowned as Kaiba paused in the air, circling around the same spot again and again.

"What's he doing?" Harry whispered, squinting, trying to see what was happening. And suddenly he saw it: a tiny flicker of gold near the Ravenclaw goal hoops, where Kaiba continued to circle. "Malfoy hasn't seen the Snitch," he said, remembering how the Slytherin goal hoops had flashed in the sun as Kaiba had circled around them, "Kaiba distracted him—Ron! _Look at Kaiba_!"

The Ravenclaw Seeker had gone into a dive, accelerating madly as he got closer to the ground, where the Snitch had darted off to.

"And Kaiba's gaining speed—bloody Hell that new broom is fast!—and, by God, HE'S GOT THE SNITCH! RAVENCLAW WINS BY ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY POINTS, WITH THE FINAL SCORE TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY TO SIXTY, RAVENCLAW'S FAVOUR!"

The stands erupted into wild cheers, and Harry laughed, watching as Malfoy landed harshly and stormed off, dragging his broom with him.

"I don't need to hex Malfoy!" Ron whooped, high-fiving Harry. "Not while Malfoy on Kaiba's bad side! All I need to do is get the stuck-up prick to say something that annoys Kaiba!"

"You have to wonder, though," Mokuba said, frowning, "why does Malfoy only bad-mouth Bill, instead of picking on others, too? It's like the three of them are…_competing_ over something."

"But _what_?" Harry asked.

"Who cares?" Ron said, grinning. "Malfoy's losing."

**to be continued…**

_Yes, "fug" is a word. It's an icy mist, apparently. And, yes, they go to classes on Saturday in Hogwarts. (Or, I think they do; they have their core courses three times a week in first and second year, except for Astronomy, which they have "every Wednesday at midnight". And that's for Gryffindors.) As best I can tell from the books, they have four classes a day. Or something. Double classes are twice as long, and usually have two houses in them._


	13. XII: It's Not Me

_THIS CHAPTER BEGINS WITH SOME FAIRLY GRAPHIC STUFF—IT'S NOT PORN, BUT IF YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN'T HANDLE SOME BOY-ON-BOY ACTION, PLEASE SCROLL DOWN TO THE "**-o-**" SIGN, AND START READING THERE. (IT WOULD PROBABLY BE BEST IF YOU'D READ THE FIRST SEVEN PARAGRAPHS AS WELL, AS THEY DON'T CONTAIN ANYTHING MORE THAN EXTREMELY VAGUE INNUENDO, AND INTRODUCE YOU TO WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN.) IF YOU _DON'T _HAVE A PROBLEM WITH GRAPHIC STUFF, AND WOULD LIKE TO READ THE FULL, NC-17 (MA) RATED VERSION OF THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE GO TO THIS URL: www_**(DOT)**_nfiction_**(DOT)**_com_**(SLASH)**_user_**(DOT)**_php?userid3306, SCROLL DOWN TO "HARRY POTTER AND THE SENNEN ITEMS, AND SELECT CHAPTER TWELVE (IT'S LIKE USING FF.N). THANK YOU!_

_(Chapter title taken from _3 Doors Down'_s CD "Seventeen Days")_

**Harry Potter and the Sennen Items  
Chapter Twelve: It's Not Me  
.nachzes black-rider**

Seto changed quickly, before the other members of the team could walk in and start to congratulate him, attempt to engage him in friendly conversation…or see his scars. He didn't bother with his uniform, instead pulling on a black turtleneck and dress pants—it was Sunday, there was no school, and he'd be damned if he was going to wear that stupid dress any more than was required.

Slipping furtively from the change room, so as to avoid any unwanted fawning fans, Seto walked briskly toward the castle, immersed in troublesome thoughts.

"_Come to my office after the Quidditch match today, Seto. We'll have our own private party."_

"_Isn't it a little early to be counting on a party, Weasley How do you know we'll win? You've probably jinxed us."_

"_Either way, come after the game. If you lose we'll have to drown our sorrows in Butterbeer and plot the 'accidental' death of Draco Malfoy. …But I doubt you'll lose."_

Seto felt his lips twitch slightly and raised his hand to knock on the door to Bill's office, but before he could, it flew open, revealing a grinning Bill.

"Come in," the redhead purred, and Seto shot him a brief glare before he remembered to turn it into a hesitant smile, and stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

The moment he turned around, Bill was all over him, lips pressing against the pale column of his neck and hands up his shirt, caressing his chest. Seto moaned appreciatively, tilting his head back to allow the other better access to his neck, and twined his fingers tentatively into the shorter hairs at the nape of Bill's neck. "Yes," he hissed, pressing into the other's skilful hands at they pinched and pulled at his nipples. "More…!" He felt Bill grin against his neck and slide his hands down to his waist, tongue flicking out to lick a trail up to his ear. Breath held in anticipation, Seto released the pent-up air in a long, low moan as Bill's teeth closed around the lode, nipping softly at it.

"Do you know how sexy you were today?" Bill breathed, warm air wafting of the shell of Seto's ear, and the brunet moaned again, his hands tightening in the other's hair. "You really should wear blue more often," Bill continued conversationally, raising his hands up Seto's chest and taking his shirt with them. "Because all I could think about while I watched you up there, flying, was how I wanted to make you scream my name while you writhed in ecstasy beneath me."

Seto moaned again, louder, feeling the blood rush to his groin at the other's lust-coated words, and his hips moved instinctively, grinding against the other's. He felt, somehow, as though this was all moving too fast, but Bill wanted it, and this was how it always happened in the books and the movies, and with lust fogging his brain, he didn't know how to stop it. Or if he even wanted to. He could feel Bill's desire pressing against his hip, and he flushed, pale cheeks turning crimson as Bill rubbed against him. "Bill…" he panted, voice breaking when the other nipped sharply at his neck, "I…."

"Mm?" Bill murmured against the brunet's neck, "What?"

"…Don't stop," Seto said, his nerve failing him. Bill chuckled, and Seto shivered, loving the sound, even as he hated it.

"Don't worry," Bill purred, hands rubbing circles over Seto's bared chest. "I have no intention of stopping…unless you want me to." Sincere emerald eyes locked onto Seto's, and the brunet found himself faltering, tongue-tied and fumbling for words.

"I…ye—no," he said, looking away and hoping that Bill would think it was girlish modesty that made him glance down, not shame; not fear that if he said "yes"…if he took the way out that Bill offered him…then Bill would decide that he wasn't worth it after all. Apparently Bill either thought nothing of it, or was of the first impression, because he leaned in towards Seto, and in the split second before their lips met, Seto forgot to feel fear. And then, after that, he was lost, because Bill's tongue was in his moth, plundering and caressing everywhere it could reach, and Seto felt his heart thrill as Bill's tongue touched his own. He tightened his grip on the hair at the nape of Bill's neck, pulling him closer, and pressed his tongue against the other's, immediately affording him dominance. He felt the other moan and rub against him, and he moaned back. Breathless, he panted hard, eyes unfocussed, when Bill's lips left his; he barely registered it as Bill stripped the remaining clothes from his body and steered him toward the bed.

**-o-**

After the sex, Seto lay curled around himself, awake and trying not to think as Bill slept peacefully beside him, one of the redhead's arms wrapped around Seto's shoulders, breath wafting over the back of the younger's neck. Seto shivered, and winced as he tried to pull his legs tighter up to his chest. Wincing because it had hurt. It still hurt; _he_ hurt. And he couldn't fathom why something that was supposed to make him feel so complete…had left him so devastatingly empty.

He felt so cold inside….

**° ¥ ° **

"Bill?" Harry asked, knocking. "Are you there?" He gave the office door another harsh rap, waited a few seconds…and sighed, turning around and preparing to leave. It had been over a week since the Quidditch match, and aside from in class and at dinner, Harry had been unable to catch a glimpse of the Bill. _Guess the DA will just have to wait, _Harry thought. Bet, before he could leave, the door opened, revealing a weary-looking Bill Weasley.

"Harry?" the redhead said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?" He shook his head as Harry opened his mouth to answer. "Never mind," Bill said, turning and leaving the door open, "come in. I've just put the kettle on—you don't mind green tea, do you? It was all I had…." He trailed off, pausing with one hand in a cupboard, a strange, almost pained, look on his face.

"That's fine," Harry said, awkwardly stepping around several stacks of parchment and piles of books on his way in. He hadn't known Bill was so studious; but, then again, he had been Head Boy, and he was teaching now. "I keep wondering what Asian food tastes like. Mokuba's descriptions just aren't enough."

Bill blinked, smiled crookedly, and set down the mugs he'd gotten. "Sorry I'm not being a better host," he said.

"It's fine," Harry said. "I just wanted to ask when the best day for DA meetings would be—Luna told me you were interested in hosting them," he added hastily when the information was received with a confused expression on Bill's part.

"Of course," Bill said, a little too slowly; he jumped as the kettle over the fire began whistling stridently, and got up to make tea. Only after he'd filled both mugs and handed Harry his did he answer.

"I think Wednesdays would be best," he said finally, moving a set of dusty-looking books onto the floor to make room for two on an equally-dusty and threadbare chesterfield and taking a seat. "I don't have a class in the last block, so I'd have time to prepare; and I have meetings on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and tutoring sessions Sundays."

"So…Wednesday at, say, seven o'clock?" Harry asked. "Ending at nine?"

"That sounds okay," Bill said, staring down into his tea. He sighed suddenly, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. "Do you need anything else, Harry?" he asked, glancing up.

"I don't think so," Harry said. Bill nodded, and Harry awkwardly turned to leave, twisting back around at the sound of Bill's voice as he neared the door.

"Harry?" Bill said.

"Yeah?"

"…Start with shield charms." The redhead's voice was grim.

"Sure," Harry said, nearly tripping over a stack of parchment on the way out.

"Sure."

**° ¥ ° **

As soon as Harry left, Bill set his mug down on a pile of dusty volumes in front of him and sighed, leaning back and shading his eyes with a hand cupped over them. _He didn't show up to class again today. Then again, he what else is new?_ He sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling exhausted. _Stupid, stupid,_ he thought. _Why the hell did you sleep with him, Bill! _He'd thought Seto had liked it—thought he'd _wanted_ it!—he'd certainly responded in kind. Just thinking about the night after the Quidditch match made him flush and shift uncomfortably. Apparently, however, Seto had not liked it, and most likely not wanted it. He'd avoided seeing, speaking to, and coming in any sort of contact with Bill; it had been eight days since they'd had sex, and Seto hadn't come to one Defence Against the Dark Arts class, nor to dinner, nor to his tutoring session on Sunday. Bill had tried to talk to Mokuba about it, but the boy had just cast him a pitying glance and hurried away—apparently, Seto had forbade him to talk to Bill. Or maybe Mokuba was just damn perceptive.

_Either way, you fucked up big time,_ Bill thought to himself. _And you'd better do something about it, or you're never going to get him back. And he'll flunk out of Hogwarts. And it'll be your fault._

"Shut up," he said aloud.

His thoughts silenced, he continued to sit with his hand over his eyes for several minutes.

_Get a move on, Weasley._

Groaning, he forced himself to his feet, grabbing his mug and dumping the remains of his tea down the sink. "Tomorrow," he told himself. "I'll do it tomorrow. After the feast. Are you happy now?"

He swore he heard someone chuckle.

**-o-**

All through the Halloween feast, Bill felt like he was sitting on pins. _Which would, _he thought, _be very uncomfortable._

(_No shit, you idiot,_ he added soon after.)

He kept stealing glances to the Ravenclaw table to assure himself that Seto was still there—apparently, Mokuba had nagged him sufficiently about his poor eating habits to get him to attend. At the mental image this thought conjured up, Bill grinned. It was fun to cajole Seto—he was cute when he was flustered.

_Not helpful, Weasley,_ the annoying voice in his head informed him, and the smile slipped from his face.

_Shut up_, he said. God, it was annoying having a voice in your head.

_Conscience,_ the thing said smugly.

Whatever.

He chanced another glance at Seto, startled when the other's eyes met his. Both of them looked down at the same time, but Bill felt vaguely heartened by the fact that in the split second that they'd been looking straight at each other, he'd seen no genuine anger in Seto's eyes. Glancing around again, Bill shifted impatiently—the Halloween feast had never seemed so long when he had been attending Hogwarts. _Of course,_ he admitted, _you were rather more interested in the food and decorations back then._ Sighing, he picked at the food on his plate, resigning himself to a long wait.

**-o-**

Finally, the golden platters cleared, and benches screeched as students pushed themselves back and got to their feet—Bill felt a moment of panic as he himself stood up and promptly lost sight of Seto in the milling crowd, but relaxed again as he spotted the brunet heading towards the library, apparently intent on getting some work done. Hurrying after him, Bill ran over the plan in his mind: find Seto, explain to Seto, make up with Seto. He almost fell over his own feet when Seto stopped suddenly and turned, glaring at him.

"What are you doing following me?" His voice was cold, and Bill stopped dead, knowing he looked as if he'd been smacked across the face. Or maybe punched in the gut.

He hadn't bargained for this.

"I…wanted to talk to you," he said. "You've been skipping my classes, and you didn't show up for your tutoring session on Sunday…."

Seto seemed to relax. "Is that what this is about, then? _Schoolwork_?" Bill shook his head, and something in the other's expression faltered. "What, then?"

Bill took a deep breath. "It's about us," he said.

"Us?"

"Why won't you talk to me—?"

"There is no _us_, Weasley."

Bill flinched. The words Seto had flung at him were not cold, but were instead flat, devoid of any emotion. Like Seto didn't care. Had never cared. "If you'd just let me _explain_," Bill began, but Seto cut him off again.

"_Explain_? There's nothing _to_ 'explain'! You pretended to feel something for me, we fucked, and we went our separate ways! That's all it _ever_ was!"

"Is that what you really think?" Bill said. "That I _pretended_ to feel what I did for you? Why would I _do _that—"

"You think I _know_?" Seto shouted. "_You_ were the one who professed your love, insisted I felt the same, made me _believe_ I felt the same—!" His voice cracked, the façade of anger giving way to grief. Bill felt torn. Seto obviously didn't feel the same towards him, but he couldn't bear to see the other hurting…. The brunet turned away, hiding his face, so that all Bill could see was his outline, his shadow, in the flickering torchlight. "Fake," Seto said, voice quiet. "That's all it ever was. A big—_lie_." He spat the last word, making it a disgusting swear, the worst thing anything could ever be.

"It wasn't fake," Bill said. He had to explain, even if Seto still hated him after it. "I loved"—he corrected himself—"I _still love_ you. It was never a lie. I thought you wanted it…."

Seto made a frustrated gesture, a strange sound escaping him. "It was never _real_," he said. "When I was with you, I had to be someone else, someone weak, someone you needed to take care of. I couldn't raise my voice, couldn't say no…you kissed me on the forehead like a little kid, for God's sake! You wanted someone fictional, someone from the movies. Someone else. Not me."

"No!" Bill said. "I never wanted you to pretend to be someone you weren't—I wanted to get to know _you_, not who you _thought_ you should be!"

Seto gave a harsh, bitter laugh that half sounded like a sob. "No one wants that," he said. "Only in the movies."

"I do," Bill said quietly. "That's all I've ever wanted. After…after Fleur was murdered, it was all I could do to keep living. I thought I'd never feel _anything_ again, never mind love! And then I met you, and you were so real, so upfront, so _there_, and I knew that I wanted to get to know _you_! Not someone you made up to try to please me—_you_!"

"Words mean nothing," Seto said dully.

"Then let my actions speak for me," Bill said, stepping forward and gently turning the other around to face him, cupping his cheek with one hand. "Even if what happened that day was not what _should_ have happened, even if it's not what you really wanted in here," he said, briefly touching Seto's chest, "even then…I know you felt something real. Maybe so real that it scared you half to death. But you have to know that all I was thinking about was you and me. _Us_.

"The _real_ us. Not a lie. Never a lie."

"How can you expect me to believe you, just like that?" Seto said. "How can you expect me to jump right back into bed with you, when I've spent the last nine days thinking that it was all fake?"

"I don't," Bill said simply. "All I want you to do, all I've _ever_ wanted from you, is for you to try."

"And then we can fuck?"

Bill flinched at the harshness of the words, but answered just as plainly. "No," he said. "And then we'll see what happens."

Seto stiffened. "You don't _know_?" he demanded, taking a step back as Bill stepped forward. "You don't know what's going to happen?" There was a note of panic in his voice—if there was one thing Kaiba, Seto was afraid of, it was uncertainty about the future.

"No, I don't know," he said. "But I'm willing to try to find out. Are you?"

This time, it was Seto, trembling, scared, and hesitant though he was, who kissed Bill first.

**° ¥ ° **

"**_It has been two months! Two MONTHS!" the Dark Lord shrieked, pacing up and down the room, the wand in his pale hand shaking with rage. "_WHY _HAVE YOU NOT FULFILLED YOUR TASK?!"_**

_**The cringing figure on the floor spoke, voice trembling, and Harry realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that he knew who the boy was. "My Lord, there are complications—I have tried, but—"**_

"**_You have what?" Voldemort hissed, voice low and dangerous._**

_**The boy shook even more violently. "I have tried—"**_

"**CRUCIO_!" Voldemort yelled, and the young Deatheater before him writhed, screaming in pain. "TRYING IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Voldemort was yelling. "I WANT _ACTION_! CAN NO ONE GIVE ME _RESULTS_?!" He raised his wand, and the other suddenly stopped writhing and instead lay limp and still. _Dead? _Harry thought with a sudden rush of dread; but no, the figure was just unconscious, for he moaned, head raising from the flagstone floor, and Harry gasped in horror, because he _knew _that floor…._**

"**_I will serve," Draco said, raising his head weakly from the floor, blood staining his lip and chin. "On my life, I will fulfill my duty to you, my Lord. I swear…."_**

"**_You had better," Voldemort hissed. "I want that boy, Draco. And if I don't get _himyou _will serve in his place." And then, with a _crack!_, the Dark Lord Disapparated._**

_**From within Hogwarts' walls.**_

**to be continued…**

_Oooh! The TENSION! I FEEL IT! (OMG, it's all coming together, and I can _feel _your toes curling in SUSPENSE! MUAHAHAHAHA!)_

_Also, the next chapter, I am working on it. (And for OA, too.)_


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